Highlander: McAllister saga
by scikaiju
Summary: OC/ Owen McAllister, Born 350 years ago as a son of Scotland and Ireland. He lives as quietly as he can until a source closer to home than he thinks starts to target him. Rating is a precaution for language and violence in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

In a dingy basement two men in sweats stood on a worn wrestling mat. The first one, his blond hair underneath the rag on top of his head, held a wooden kendo stick in his hands tightly before him. The second, while looking the same age as the other, held his somewhat loosely in his right as he ran his other hand through his long brown hair. He noted the beads of sweat on the other man forehead, and tried not to show his amusement. The young man would probably crap his shit the first time he had to do this for real at this point. The first man came at him, telegraphing his attack all the way. The other easily knocked the stick away and put his by the others neck. "Think boyo," he said. The young man nodded, took a step back and got ready again. He came at him a little slower this time. This time the other one blocked a few strikes, attacked once and put the stick by his neck again. "Now you're thinking too much." They started again, this time the young one tried to be a little more aggressive and unpredictable. He found his stick flying and once again the others' stick at his neck, "Now you're back to not thinking enough."

"Some of us haven't been around three hundred years," The young man said frustrated.

"Three fifty," he corrected. "And age has nothing to do with it. Practice and experience Keith, nothing more. And age doesn't equal experience before you start arguing"

Grabbing his kendo stick he reluctantly tried it again. "I still say we should be doing this with the real thing."

"Oh you do?", he said with a amused look. One more time they took their position and clashed their kendo sticks. The older man again blocked, occasionally attacking where he saw an opening. He felt a little proud as the younger man was able to block in time. That made him feel a little more confident in his ability and went in harder at his mentor. The older man waited for the right time to break through his defense, got behind him and intentionally whacked the stick against his neck. The young man yelped in protest as he held his neck. "That's why we're not using actual swords, because accidents happen and I have no plans on losing my head to a person a just few months from his first death."

"That hurt," Keith said as he continued to hold his neck. "That is so leaving a mark."

"It'll be gone before the nights over so quite crying like a baby." He took the stick off the floor before Keith could. "There is a reason why we're practicing. So you can stay alive for as long as possible. Because the moment you lose this," he tapped him on top of the head with the stick, "is the moment it's over for good. There ain't no coming back."

"You keep telling me that," Keith said as he tore the rag off his head. "I get it Owen, alright? There no point to keep repeating it."

"It's a reminder of who we are boyo," Owen said while placing a hand on his shoulder. "None of us know when the Gathering is going to happen. We have to stay alive until then." He glanced over his shoulder at the clock behind him, "Go and hit the shower, I told him we'd be out of here by nine."

Twenty minutes later they were dressed in their street clothes and headed up the stairs. Owen greeted the preacher standing at the top of it waiting for them. "Thanks for letting us use the facilities again Father."

"No problem at all Owen," he said as he let them pass. "Although I do wish you would come here for more than just practice and to confess your particular sins."

"Holy ground is the best place to prepare him Father," Owen reminded him, "and I need to live with a clear conscious. But how about we meet up for coffee sometime this week?"

"It be my pleasure my boy," he agreed. "It'd be nice to reminisce about old times with somebody who actually lived and remembers them."

"Even if he doesn't look it," Keith smirked. Owen promptly smacked him in the head, "Ow."

"Show some respect in a church boyo. Didn't anybody teach you any better?"

"It's alright Owen," the Father said. "No harm done, well to me anyway. You on the other hand…," he trailed off smirking.

"See you later Father," he laughed it off and he and Keith left the church and headed off. They talked on the way about various things. All of the sudden his charge looked thoughtful.

"Owen," he asked, "what are you going to do with the Prize if you win it?"

"None of us know what it is," he reminded him. "So I have no idea what I'm going to do. But try not to worry about it too much. Just live your life as best you can. Because before you know you'll meet up with somebody wanting to take you head to increase their own power." They went another block before the buzz hit them. A small, tingly feeling that started in the back of your head then slammed in you in the gut that told you another immortal was near. This was the point you started praying to any deity who would actually listen that who you were feeling was a friend in a really good mood. Keith still wasn't that used to it yet so he started panicking a little. Owens' hand went for the sword in his bag as he looked around until he found the other immortal. Then he smiled as those prayers were answered, "Antony."

"What's up Owen?", he said as he removed his sunglasses and gave the other a hug. "It has been too long. When was the last time I saw you? 1837 in England I believe."

"Yeah you were off to America," Owen recalled. "Something about making your fortune if I remember correctly."

"Just trying to live the high life, you know me." Antony turned to Keith as years of experience made him size up the young man. "And I'm guessing you're a virgin."

"Hey," Keith started to protest.

"Not in that way boyo," Owen said. "Keith here is my student."

"Don't you just find that 'boyo' thing annoying?", Antony asked Keith, who quickly agreed. "You always had more patience than me Owen. I tried the whole teacher thing a couple of time. And I always handed them off to somebody else at my first opportunity. Look at us talking so openly on the street, you would think we were new at this."

"My place isn't that far away," Owen said, "want to come with us for a couple of drinks?"

Antony put an arm around his shoulder, "My friend I thought you would never ask."

They spent the next couple of hours in Owen apartment talking about days gone by. Keith, feeling out of place, only nodded or shook his head when it looked liked something as directed toward him. Owen saw his student discomfort and tried several times to direct things toward something a little more current, but Antony was able to take it to something that happened decades if not centuries earlier. "I don't know what happen to this planet," he said wistfully. "Years ago I was able to have deep, meaningful conversation with people. Now I have guys in their fifties calling me 'dawg'. Seriously, I want to weep sometimes."

"Times change," was Owen only response. "I remember when automobiles were considered a wealthy man play toy. Now they're every where you look. And who would have ever imagined back then that you could sit in your own house and talk to somebody across the globe and not have it be called witchcraft. The world moves on, we just have to learn to adapt along with it." Getting up he said, "Let me get you another beer." Looking into the fridge he called out, "Looks like I only got light beer left." When he turned around he saw the point of a Spanish rapier pointed at him and Keith getting up in shock, "If you don't like that, I can always send Keith out for some more." When the sword didn't waiver he told him, "This isn't funny Antony."

"I'm sorry," he said sounding regretful, "I truly am. But I need money. I know you still have some, you never tried to live above a commoner so you still have plenty to spare."

"What is this about Antony?"

"I have debts, big debts."

"If you need money I can give you some, no strings attached," Owen said hoping to talk him out of this.

"You don't understand," he said. "I lost everything. Everything! My bank accounts all over the world, my homes all of it. Five hundred years of life and I lost all of it in one night. I just need a fresh start."

"I'll give you that fresh start," Owen said. "You don't even have to pay me back."

"It won't be enough. I need what you have and I only know one way to take it."

"Antony don't do this," Owen pleaded.

"Owen McAllister," Antony said, "pick up your sword and fight me."

"You want to fight somebody fight me," Keith spoke up.

"I don't fight virgins boy," Antony said never taking his eyes off of Owen. "Taste a Quickening first then see me about revenge."

"Back off Keith," Owen said. "You know the rules, this is between me and him. But not here."

Looking out the window Antony saw a building under construction, "Over there then."

"It'll do," Owen agreed. Antony put his sword in his coat and headed out the door without another word. "You damn bastard," Owen said after a moment.

"Now what are you going to do?", Keith asked.

"Stay here," was Owen only answer as he headed for the front door. Reaching into his bag he pulled out the bastard version of the long sword and put it in his jacket before he headed out the door. He crossed the street and entered the construction area through a hole in the fence. Antony wasn't that far away as he waited for him to enter before walking further in. Owen drew his sword and Antony pulled his. "We don't have to do it this way."

"Yes we do Owen, it's who we are. This day was going to come sooner or later, it might as well be now. I'll take care of Keith for you, if he doesn't try to kill me first."

"Always thinking too far ahead, "Owen said as he raised his sword. "That was always your biggest problem. It probably put you in the mess you're in now."

"Shut up and fight," Antony said as they slowly came toward each other. Both knew how the other fought so it was important to wait before making a mistake that left you open. Owen watched his every movement hoping, no praying his friend would come to his senses. Realizing he wasn't any time soon he attacked first making Antony block and step back. Centuries of instinct and experience flowed through them and powered their attacks. Neither thought of the good times they had as they fought knowing one way or the other this was going to end.

Owen was forced back as one swing sliced deep into his left arm. He was forced to fight with just the one arm until he healed enough to be able to use it properly. He sidestepped a downward strike and slashed at Antony's leg buying him a little time. Antony surprised him by swinging out widely with his sword. Owen felt the wind across his neck as he quickly fell back. That was too close. Antony pressed his advantage forcing Owen against a steel pillar. He swung again for a killing strike. Owen ducked and the Rapier sliced into the pillar before getting stuck. Owen quickly put his sword up to Antony's neck. "Walk away Antony," he said. "We don't have to finish this."

"Alright," he agreed. Owen never took his eyes off of him as he lowered his sword and backed up. Antony finally pulled his rapier free and looked at Owen who finally turned his back. "I am truly, deeply sorry old friend," he whispered. He ran at Owen with his sword raised up high. Owen heard it coming and quickly spun around, catching Antony in the gut and slicing deep as he pulled away. He fell to his knees as his hand went instinctively to the wound to try to keep his insides from falling out. Owen got his side and stood over him with his sword raised. He thought about sparing his life for the second time. Then he saw Antony reach for his sword again. Owen swung down and separated his head from his body with ease.

He backed away from the body as his neck started glowing, trying to avoid it but knowing it wasn't going to happen. The Quickening could not be avoided no matter how hard you tried. Lightning like energy bolts came from the body and danced in the air. Then the first bolt assaulted him and froze him in place as he started absorbing everything Antony was, knew and experienced. The area lit up as more energy poured out of the headless body. He was assaulted over and over by the bolts as the occasional stray bolt hit something in the construction yard. He endured the torment as best he could before it became overpowering. "RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!", he screamed at the top of his lungs with his arm open wide as every cell in his body felt like they were exploding all at once. Lighting flowed through and off of him as various pieces of equipment and lights around him started to explode from the excess energy. Then things died down and he fell to his knees exhausted. A second battle was taking place inside him. The one that lasted for a second but felt like an eternity, as the new energy inside him fought for control in one last effort to live. Like always it was pushed down and quieted as he remained Owen McAllister, born three hundred and fifty years ago and nobody else.

He felt the buzz again and froze. Every immortal greatest fear was that there would be another nearby ready to take advantage of you while you were still recovering after a Quickening. He looked around until he saw Keith standing there wide eyed. Hoarsely he told him "I told you to stay put."

"He…, "Keith sputtered, "he was your friend."

"And he wasn't going to stop until one of us was dead," Owen told him as he shakily got to his feet. Walking toward his student he said, "If you take nothing else away from what I taught you take this. Cherish what friend you have and gain as you as you walk this journey, human and immortal alike. Celebrate with them, honor them when they die, remember them when they are gone." Standing in front of him he continued, "Unfortunately you'll realize soon enough how fragile mortals are as you watch them grow old and die. And with immortals," he looked back at the headless body, "friendships run deep, but as far as the Game is concerned they are never destined to last." Looking Keith in the eyes he said, "Because in the end there can be only one." Walking past Keith and putting his sword back in his jacket he wanted to get out of there before anybody decided to get brave and check out what the commotion was, "God I need a drink."

Keith got in his way. Looking concerned he asked, "Are we every going to fight?"

Owen looked at the young man. His first instinct was to lie, but after what he just seen there was no point. "Maybe someday boyo, but not today." He put an arm around him as they continued walking, "Come on, I know a bar a couple of blocks away. Despite everything that's happen I want to honor an old friend."


	2. Chapter 2

He stood there in front of a mirror that was attached to the wall in a sad excuse for a hole in the wall motel room. Wearing nothing but his black pants and near black hair going down to his waist he looked at his reflection and remembered. His first death and afterwards. For a thousand years he roamed this earth, doing the only thing he knew how to do, kill. Looking for every battle, hoping somebody would look at him the wrong way. Even before he died he was called blood thirsty by those he grew up with. He never saw why people saw it as such a bad thing. The Gods or God, he really didn't care he stopped believing in a higher power ages ago, made him this way. So who were they to judge him?

And judge him they did after his first death. The people he knew his entire life at that point tried to burn him at the stake when he tried to return. So he had to fight his way out just to live, and he had no problem cutting down his comrades to do so. But still it took thirty years of wandering before another immortal found him and explained what he was. A point that was quickly proven when Kronos impaled himself on his sword and lived to tear it out of his hands. It was very hard not to take him seriously after that. And listened he did, because this Immortal knew more about war than anybody he had ever met. He also did the impossible and taught him the value of patience. To wait for just the right moment before lashing out and doing whatever it took to defeat your enemy. And that was something he always excelled at.

He felt he had to leave Kronos's teachings when he revealed he was one of the mythical Four Horseman, and he had been causing mayhem and destruction for millennia. And people thought he was crazy. The first opportunity he saw he got away from him. But those teaching had never left him, he may have been slightly more patient now but in battle he never stopped once he smelled blood. And what battles he found once he started fighting other immortals. His first Quickening was almost too beautiful to imagine as he absorbed the dead immortals' power. This was way more satisfying than just simply killing a man in the field of battle. So he made it his mission to take every immortal head he came across.

He shifted his gaze to the body of the woman he picked up off the street. Her chest was bleeding under the sheet that covered her. He stabbed her himself, because he knew. He just had to wait. Her cry of anguish awakened another memory in him, one he didn't mind reliving again and again. That short cry of his fallen mortal opponent gave out, that realization that they were going to die at his hands. He lived for that moment in battle, when he was mortal it was his reason for living. He looked for it in every battle, every war and every conflict he found himself in. It didn't matter who side he was on, just as long as he as he got to look whoever it was in the eyes as he killed them.

The woman behind him breathed in hard as she came back to life. That was quicker than he thought. Perhaps she was stronger than he originally thought. Clutching the sheet to her chest she looked around and panicked as he continued to look at the mirror. Then she held her head like she was in pain. "What... what did you do to me?" she demanded, but fear was still evident in her voice.

"It wasn't what I did to you," he said calmly as he stroked the leather trench coat on the dresser below the mirror. "It's what you already were. I just helped you wake up."

"What the fuck are you talking about?", she said starting to feel a little braver. "You fucking tried to kill me? I'm calling Ron."

"You are not going to call anybody," he informed her. "And I didn't try to kill you. I did kill you." He looked at her from the mirror, "Don't believe me, then check for yourself." He watched as she looked underneath the sheet. He stabbed her between the breast and right in the heart. He knew she felt the cold blade pierce her skin. She was at a lose for words when the wound was gone, the blood remaining the only way to know it happened. Then she found the knife he used laying beside her, still covered in her blood. He actually prided himself in holding back, the temptation to continue cutting after she died was almost too great to pass up.

"What is going on Michel?"

"Think of it as being part of an exclusive club," he explained. "One where you can see all the wonders man can come up and look exactly as you do now, no matter how old you are."

"You're not making any sense."

"Fine, I'll dumb it down for you," stupid bitch, no wonder she was so cheap. "You are now immortal."

"Wait," she said as she crawled toward him, while still holding the sheet to her chest, "so I can't die? I can like get shot, fall off a building or burn my brain out of drugs and still come back?"

"That is the gist of it yes."

"How did you know?"

"That thing you're feeling right now, that's how we know who is an Immortal from the regular peons out there. You learn everything soon enough."

"You're," she gulped, "you're going to show me what's like to be an immortal?"

"I was, I have before when the mood strikes me." While he talked she didn't see him reach into the trench coat. Michael pulled out a sword that had a hilt shaped like a skull and demon wing. The blade itself was red, an old sword given to him by Kronos, who said the blood lust of the blade matched his own. "Then I changed my mind." He turned around quickly with a maniacal grin on his face and almost satanic glee in his eyes. With one motion her head went flying as her body fell to the side. Patience had its limits and it had been a long time since he'd taken a head.

Michel closed his eyes as her Quickening hit him. The lights in the room started to flicker before exploding as the energy flowed around the room. He grunted as it grew stronger and quickly faded away. Looking at the body he let the disgust he was feeling show. "I should have known, you were a lousy fuck and a lousier Quickening. Stupid fucking bitch." Looking through her things and taking his money back and then some he got dressed: combat boots, along with a black metal shirt and those studded gloves of his, and left the room. If things went right he'd be out of town before the body was discovered. But the mortals usually had a habit of popping up when you didn't want them too. Or being stupider than you expected, because went down to the street and found that his car had been stolen.

He started walking, because he had no use for the police, even if he did the body would have been found by the time they arrived and he'd be right there to point out. He needed to walk more anyway, like he did when he was younger. Seeing how things are nowadays it was no wonder the newer Immortals were so weak, they had machines to do just about everything for them. After a few hours it was getting dark and he found himself passing a cemetery when he felt the buzz. Hand going for his sword immediately he looked around for his next challenge.

Standing in one of the entry ways of the cemetery he saw a man who looked liked he was in his fifties, his hair in a ponytail and wearing a jacket and kilt. Looking smug he said, "And how strong to you think you're going to get if you keep settling for those newborn Quickenings?"

"Mind your own business old man," Michel told while continuing on, cursing the fact he was on holy ground.

"Now that's funny" he said through the metal fence between them as he walked with him, "you calling me old when you have a few centuries on me. You should know better than anybody that looks can be deceiving."

"Is there a point to this?", Michel asked. "Or are you finally going to step off of holy ground and face me?"

"I don't think you're worth it yet," he answered. That was always his answered. Michel was convinced part of his strategy was to one day shock him by saying yes then take his head while he momentarily distracted. "I was an important man back in the day, the head of my clan. I don't want to sully myself by fighting just anybody."

Michel stopped and faced him, "I think you're just scared. That's why you never leave holy ground. You're so afraid to die you won't take a battle unless you have absolutely no choice."

"Everybody is afraid to die Michel, humans are just unlucky enough to realize they are going to die," the old man told him. "Death comes for everybody, it just that some of us have a longer life span than others. Tell me Michael, what would you do if you knew you were about to die today."

"Unless I come across an immortal with the fucking balls to fight I don't think I have anything to worry about today."

They reached another gate and the look on the old man face changed slightly, "Be careful for what you wish for Michel." He stepped out in the road, away from holy ground. Michel raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he watched the other man reach into his coat. Pulling out a Scottish claymore he held it before him. "You never know when you're going to get it."

"Finally," Michel grinned as he drew his sword. "I waited a long time for this Malcolm."

To his credit he didn't look fazed at the sight of his blade. "I know you have, let's hope you're up to it."

Michel charged in swinging his sword. Malcolm blocked and backed up several steps as the ring of the clash echoed in the air. Michel swung high, low, at his sides with everything he had, trying to break the other man down. Again he gave Malcolm credit because he was able to parry or avoid each one. "Not bad old man", he said through his teeth as their swords met and didn't budge.

Way to calmly Malcolm said, "Just because you don't think I like to fight doesn't mean I've been in my fair share." They pushed away, Michel being caught off guard momentarily by Malcolm sudden aggressiveness. Swords clanged and sparks flew off of them as the sun got lower and lower in the sky. Malcolm was able to force his sword into the fence and nailed him with an elbow to the face and there was a loud crack and his blood started to flow. Michel held his nose as he kicked the other man in the gut. Taking the moment he created to snap his nose back into place he continued his onslaught. He caught the other Immortal with a slash across the chest and that maniacal grinned returned to his face, he smelt blood.

Malcolm didn't panic, in fact he was even calmer know than when the fight first started. No matter, it just meant he had that much more pride to break before he started taking body parts. Michel came in with an overhead slash. Malcolm surprised him by sidestepping instead of blocking. He grabbed the other Immortal by the hair and swung his sword. Michel fell foreword suddenly and he immediately checked his neck. His head was still in place, but his hair now hung to his shoulders. "You fucking bastard!"

"Next time I'll take more than your hair Michel," Malcolm said as he dropped the hair to the ground and walked back into the cemetery. In a fit of rage and embarrassment he ran after Malcolm with his sword ready to strike. The moment he entered the cemetery the other Immortal simply said, "Holy ground Dijkhuizen."

Michel was forced to stop despite his rage. He was right there yet that fucking taboo that was forced into him stayed his hand. His rage had to go somewhere, so he screamed and took the head off a nearby angel statue. Pointing at the other man back he shouted, "One of these days McAllister!"

"I did you a favor Michel," Malcolm said leaning on a tombstone. "The police will be looking for a man with hair down to his ass. You just got a brief respite despite the fact you'll match the rest of the description. Besides you needed a haircut anyway. I ought to take more for you desecrating a grave"

"One of these days you won't be were you can run to holy ground with your tail between your legs!"

"Tell yourself whatever you need to Michel, just be happy I was in a generous mood today." He turned away and walked further into the cemetery. "Although if you're that hungry for McAllister blood, I do believe I have a family member you might want to be interested in. After I make sure we are blood related that is."

"And how in the fuck am I suppose to know when you do or not?", Michael demanded.

"Do not curse in a cemetery," Malcolm said showing the first signs of anger in the encounter. Regaining some of his composer he said, "I'll let you know when I found out. One of the beauties of the modern age," he held up a cell phone, "we're all connected no matter where we go. I'll be in touch."

Michel fumed as he stared at the red metal of his blade. "After I take care of this supposed family of yours I'm coming after your head next you fucking Scottish bastard."


	3. Chapter 3

He felt the wind whip by him as he stood in the opening of the airplane. Looking down at the Earth below it was almost too hard to imagine that it was the same ground he had been walking on earlier. Taking a deep breath he jumped out and for a brief moment felt like he was flying. Spreading out like he was instructed he felt the air surround him as he dropped to the ground. He looked around taking in the beauty of the environment. It was time like these he was actually happy to be alive. But then again what's the point in living if you couldn't enjoy things like this every so often. Then like always the boredom set in. He had done this countless times before over the decades. While it was beautiful at first, he had seen and done it many times before. Then the ideas starting flowing in his head. He surprised himself a little as a new one popped in his head.

Folding his arms to his body he aimed his head at the ground and began falling faster. He started passing those who jumped in front of him. He could only imagine what they were thinking as they saw him. The ground came at him faster and faster. Bringing his arm up he saw he was close to exiting the safe zone, but he waited. Several minutes went by and he still hadn't pulled his cord yet. Checking his altimeter one more time he saw he was well out of the safe zone, then he pulled his cord. The parachute open and he felt his body whip fast from the sudden deceleration and liked he hoped, felt his neck snap.

Breathing in hard as regained conscious he found his body in a heap on the ground. With some pain and effort he forced and snapped his broken limbs back into place. Well that was interesting for a couple of moments at least. Feeling the buzz he looked around and saw the immortal he sense pretty fast. "Hello Owen," he greeted him pleasantly.

"Are you out of your mind?!", the older Immortal snapped. "Jackson I swear to God sometimes I think you're trying to get us discovered."

"Just trying to spice up the ol' life a little," he explained. His right arm was still hanging a bit, "Ah do you mind…?" Looking annoyed Owen took the arm and pushed it back into place, a little harder than necessary. "Hey, just because you like to live a boring life don't take it out on me."

"What if a mortal discovered you just now?"

"Then I'd be going it's a miracle."

"This isn't funny Jackson. That was a hell of a chance you took."

"That's why I invited you along to watch," he explained. "I knew you'd find me before they would. You're one of the best trackers I know. Granted I've seen better but you're still pretty good."

"What is with you lately? You've been taking more and more risks, and getting us closer to being discovered each time."

"You worry too much Owen," he waved his concern off. "Like I said, I'm just trying to spice things up a little."

Owen stood there shaking his head sadly, "What's next, bungee jumping without the bungee?"

"I've tried that," Jackson said. "It's not as fun as it sounds."

"It's official you're out of your mind."

"Relax Owen, no harm no foul." He looked around the area as he took off the parachute. He saw a ravine with a fast flowing river. Damn it how did he miss that, he was only a few feet from smashing into the side. Jackson wondered if he would have made a splat sound if he hit. "Better than nothing," he muttered to himself. Balling up the chute and pack he tossed it into the ravine and watched it hit the water. "There that should answer any question to what happen to me. Want to do lunch?"

Owen just stared at him in disbelief, "How can you be so nonchalant about this? Those on the plane with you are probably going out of their mind wondering about what happened."

"They're probably more worried about getting sued by any of my family members, wouldn't they be surprised to find out I saw my last family member a hundred years ago."

"What is wrong with you?!", he asked again showing a little anger. "Those mortals jumping with didn't take that stupid a risk."

"And those mortals know they could die if something goes wrong," he said feeling annoyed and tired about the apparent lecture Owen was trying to give him. "Some of us don't have to worry about that now do we?" Taking off his helmet he saw it was cracked from the impact and tossed it into the ravine too for good measure.

"You have to stop before you get us outed," Owen warned him.

"And what if I don't?", he challenged. "Are you going to do something about it?" He watched Owen start to reach inside his jacket and for a brief moment Jackson thought he was going to do it. Then he pulled his hand away. Jackson let the disappointment show. "So I'm guessing that's a no to lunch?"

"Seriously, stop this. I know you don't want us to become a lab experiment."

"Stop being such a worry wart," Jackson chided him. "I know what I'm doing. Now if you don't want to have lunch I'll see you around." Jackson waited a moment for him to say good bye but when it didn't come he started off in a direction, briefly wondering if he'd run across any poisonous animals.

After a few moments he heard Owen say, "Watch your back boyo."

"Always," he offered a wave.

A couple of days later he was home after his "day" job. Why he fell into the trap, especially after his first teacher set him up with a tidy little sum, was beyond him. Not that he was the only immortal with a regular job, perhaps some of his compatriots wanted to feel "normal" for a bit. Of course the big headline still was the "disappearance" of the skydivers' body. He imagined Owens' outrage if he used his current name instead of the other one he used. One of the latest rumors he heard was that a cult had found him. It was amusing at times to hear the conspiracies the mortals could come up with. It made things bearable at least a few moments.

Jackson fixed his usual vodka and cyanide cocktail. Drank it in one gulp and sat down waiting for it to kick in. Before he lost consciousness he realized he forgot to lock the door. That would be embarrassing if another immortal walked in before he woke up. When he came back he saw nothing was touched, damn his luck. He thought about drinking another one, maybe up the cyanide content, but what was the use. He'd just come back alive again. Maybe he should start looking for something with a little more taste to it, so he could see it coming. But he knew it was coming any way so what was the point? He looked at the rope and thought about hanging himself again. He hadn't done that yet. But he heard stories of peoples head being ripped off in the act and he didn't want that happening. He had a loaded gun in the closest, but that was too noisy. How was he going to finish off the night?

Grabbing his car keys off the table he took a drive. Jackson didn't have a destination in mind he just wanted to get out of town. After a few hours and a couple of cities later he found himself getting really bored. Driving around for a bit Jackson found a relatively deserted straight street. Even better it was more or less a dead end. Gunning the accelerator he raced toward the wall, good thing he never wore a seatbelt and disabled the airbag. The cars' front end was destroyed as it hit the wall and he went through the windshield. He stayed there a right proper mess as death teased him one more time.

When he awoke he was on the ground, in pain and panic at bit as he felt the buzz one more time. Looking around he saw a man with hair down to his shoulder and wearing nothing but black lean against a wall watching him. Trying to raise up he felt something cold and metal by his hand, he found his sword, a two handed long sword, next to him. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Michel," he answered without moving off the wall. "I've been waiting for you to finally wake the fuck up. We are going to fight."

"If you're that desperate for a head why didn't you take mine while I was out?"

"I've done it before, so it's not like it's above me," he said as he finally got off the wall and started walking round him. "But every so often I feel like a challenge. And I found there is no bigger challenge than a person who feels like his back is to the wall. So when you feel up to it, please pick up the sword."

Jackson looked around and realized he had no idea where he was. He didn't even see his car, nor could her hear any siren or smell any smoke. This freak pulled him out of the wreckage and took him God only knew where. "I'm in no condition for a fight," he said quickly. "Maybe we could reschedule…?"

"Fights are only one on one," Michel said to himself as he continued to circle him, "no fighting on holy ground. I don't recall the option on refusing a challenge ever being brought up."

"I guess it depends on your teacher…", he attempted to joke.

"You know I'm not a really patient person by nature," Michel cut him off sharply. "In fact it was more or less taught to me, or forced on me. But what little I have was beginning to run out waiting for you." Reaching into his trench coat he pulled out a red blade sword, "So either pick that sword up or I'll take your head right now."

Jackson tried to catch him off guard by grabbing his sword and trying to plunge it into his leg. Michel parried the strike easily and looked amused for a moment. Then he dropped the amused look and brought his sword over his and swung it down at him. Jackson rolled out of the way and hobbled to his feet trying to find a position where he would be at that much disadvantage. He wasn't finding it fast enough as Michel ran at him and swung widely. Jackson was able to get his sword up in time, but with his injuries the blow nearly knocked him down. He tried fighting back, looking for an opening in his defenses. For somebody who fought this widely he didn't look out of control as he fought. This was bad.

Jackson bought as much time as he could as he backed up and his injuries healed. When he felt more or less at a hundred percent he started upping his attacks and held him at a stand still. The clanging of steel echoed in the alley as he held his ground. Jackson thought he saw an opening and took a slash at his side. He got mostly coat as his opponent tried to get out of the way, but he saw Michel grit his teeth as he felt the blade come into contact with flesh. He upped his attack trying to keep Michel moving. If he was moving that cut would keep reopening before it was fully healed. Then Jackson head snapped back as Michel forced his fist into face, "Ugh," and he almost fell down.

"I've been alive for a thousand years," Michel boasted, "and I've been in thousands of battles. I always fought hurt. Did you really think this little scratch was going to affect me?" Michel came at him again, banging his red sword against his. At one point he tried to knock his sword out of his hands. It almost left him but Jackson kept his grip on it, but he left himself wide open. And Michel took it, but not his head. He felt the red blade go through his sword arm. It fell to the ground and he stared at the blood pouring out of his right shoulder. He could swear he could still feel it there instead of the ground. He was so horrified at what happened he couldn't scream in pain or horror.

Michel got this sick maniacal grin on his face. In desperation Jackson kicked him in the balls and started running away. He prayed that there would be some sort of holy ground nearby. Then he heard it, the tip of the sword scrapping the ground. He risked a look back and saw sparks fly right before Michel brought it up and ran after him. He ran faster but he could hear the other immortal catch up. Then he felt the steel of the sword again, this time at the knee. He fell to the ground as his left foot stayed where it was. He got to a knee still too terrified to scream. Michel stood before him with that damnable grin getting bigger. He raised his sword and brought it down. As he felt it bite into his neck Jackson last thought was 'I don't want to di….*


	4. Chapter 4

~6 months ago~

He had been alive for three hundred and eighty years. Ever since one of his own people stuck a knife into his chest in the middle of the night. Not just any body either, the one he was grooming to take over the clan after he was too old or dead. Malcolm never had any children of his own, he never even married. There was no woman worthy enough for him. Not that a few of the whores under him tried to catch his eye. Power always did that. No, the closest family he had was his accursed younger brother William and his apprentice. He thought he picked a man after his own heart, somebody he knew in his heart he could trust to run things after he was gone. He never expected that man to be so impatient or ambitious.

He remembered that morning after he came back to life. He swore God gave him the chance to bring his killer to justice, but he didn't know who it was. The bastard wore a hood to cover his identity. So he cleaned himself up, dressed in clean clothes and went out like nothing had happened and waited. Somebody would have to react. Not that he had some idea on who it might have been. If his brother was still there he would have accused him immediately. But Malcolm had him thrown out of the village years ago.

Malcolm remembered his heart breaking when he the man he personally picked to lead them acted like he saw a ghost. "I killed you!", he shouted as he got out of his seat. Everybody looked like he was insane. That's when he decided to change his tactics slightly. Instead of justice he'd make him suffer in a different way.

"You poor bastard," he said sorrowfully. "Obviously the Devil has taken a hold of you. Making you believe you seen and done things you haven't." He turned his attention to the rest of the village present. Obviously they were thinking he was going to banish him, burn him at the stake, something. Inwardly he smiled, "We must save this poor soul." The other looked at him, he knew they would be confused. Why would he choose this save this "poor soul" when he ran his own blood out? "Obviously somebody begged the Devil to do this. We should not punish him for somebody else lack of morals." The sheep fell right in with that line of thinking. The fact he later got the rumors started that his brother William was the one who made the deal only helped the matter.

His former successor was kept under his care in a shelter by the church. There, where nobody was looking, he took his revenge, taught him how wrong it was to be that impatient. Torturing him to his hearts content, but always careful not to leave a visible mark. Warning those who gave him food not to touch him in case what was ever processing him jumped to them. And he ranted too, telling everybody what Malcolm was doing to him. Malcolm smiled and laughed behind everybody backs as they put his ravings down to whatever possessed him. He eventually went mad and died. Malcolm made sure he got a proper burial. Outside of the cemetery of course, didn't want to dead to rise up from the grave and all of that. Besides he never wanted the sanctuary of a cemetery to be sullied by such superstitious nonsense.

Not that even he understood his obsession with cemeteries. Even in his younger days he would walk among the dead for hours at a time. He explained it away by telling the others that he paying his respect to those he came before. Most believed him, but a few had still had their doubts. Especially after he was given charge over them. Those like his younger brother William, he always questioned everything he did, from the crib to adulthood it felt like at times. After awhile he started hearing whispers about those who would rather follow the younger brother. So he put things in motion to take care of it. For the first time he tried to disguise himself and sat in the darkest corner of any place that had a large group of people and talked. He was surprised at how little it took to get the people against his brother. Eventually they got riled up enough that all he had to do was publicly kick him out and they did the rest. Sometimes he felt sorry about what he did, but his brother never knew his place.

Of course after he found out the truth about that faithful night and what he really was he stayed in the cemeteries more and more. That was his only safe haven after all. The rumors started against him. Malcolm was forced to leave before they attacked him. After all he'd done for them they had the gall to turn on him. But he returned years later, after anybody who knew him was already gone. Just to see how they were doing, and he grew more and more disappointed each time he went back. Many times he almost dropped the name McAllister completely just out of embarrassment.

But returned he did over the centuries. No matter where he went, no matter what identity he took he always returned home. Growing more and more despondent at how much his village was changing over the years. At least the cemetery was left untouched, there was still some decency left in the world. He was leaving again in a couple of day for the States. But he probably wouldn't stay there long, he always came home to Scotland

Walking around and lost in thought he felt the buzz. "Still expecting the dead to talk to you?", said a voice with a east London accent from behind him. Moaning silently he turned around to see a boy who looked no older than nineteen lying on top on a family mausoleum, his head hanging down over the side and his mop of long blond hair moving with the breeze. As usual he was wearing boots, drainpipe jeans, a white button up shirt with the top couple buttons undone and a dark coat. He had annoying knack of showing up when he wanted to be alone, ever since he found him during WW1 after a bombing attack by the Germans. Those grey eyes of his still had that mischievous twinkle to them but the rest of his face had a different expression.

"Why are you frowning Harris?", he felt he was going to regret the answer but had to ask any way.

"I'm not frowning I'm smiling," he answered. "My heads upside down so a frown should look like I'm smiling." Giving him a big grin he continued, "See, now it should look like I'm frowning to somebody right side up."

He was right, he regretted asking. Harris always tried to get a rise out of him. "And I here I thought you finally realized you were looking like a women with that mascara around your eyes."

He looked hurt, "It's Egyptian. Don't you know your history? You would think somebody as old as you would know something like that." Harris sat up, spun around and dangled his legs over the side of the mausoleum, quickly going back to his previous expression. "I hear you're leaving soon. Getting tired of the highlands already?"

"That is the one thing I can never get tired of, unlike certain people I could mention at the moment."

The young immortal tilted his head slightly, if he was offended he didn't show it. "So where are you going? Japan, Russia, Timbuktu? I hear that place is great this time of year, very colorful."

"There are times I swear that bomb scrambled your brains permanently," Malcolm said before walking away.

"Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. Who can really say?" Harris jumped done, put his heads behind his head and caught up with him. "Word is your heading for the colonies. I was there once back in the sixties. Now that was a great time, people killing brain cells with any drug they could get a hold and screwing the closest piece of tail they could find. Yeah there was all the stuff about social change and all that shit, but I just ignored it until the good stuff started."

"Yes I am if you must know," Malcolm said in hopes he would go away. No such luck as he continued to walk along aside him. "So what are you doing in Scotland any way? In a cemetery no less."

"Just wandering here, there and everywhere," was his response. "Seeing the world and all that. I got time to do that now. I don't see how you other guys can stay in one place for years at a time. It would drive me mad."He stopped, looking like he thought of something. Malcolm kept on walking, increasing his pace slightly. He got a few yards before Harris called out, "Say hello to your family for me when you get there."

Malcolm stopped against his better judgment, "I have no immediate family around anymore. Haven't for a few centuries now. You have more family than I do at this point."

"Of course you do, everybody has family. Got the buzz from him and everything." Malcolm slowly turned around curious about what he was babbling about. He walked back to Harris who had his sword out, a pirate cutlass with a jewel encrusted hilt, and was balancing it on the tip of two of his fingers.

"Who was it?", he asked.

"Who was what?," Harris acted like he didn't know what he was talking about.

Trying hard not to lose his temper he evenly said, "You said I had a family member who was immortal."

"Did I?", he thought about it for a moment. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. McAllister could be like Smith for all I know."

"So his last name was McAllister," Malcolm said mainly to himself. Why had he never run across this person before, or even heard about him. This would take some investigating. "Where did you meet this McAllister?"

"In the colonies back in the sixties," he said. He tossed the sword up, caught it by the handle and placed it back in his coat. "Looked like a boring guy to me, pretty straight laced. He saved a priest so he couldn't be all that bad."

"Did you happen to catch a name?"

"I told you already, McAllister."

"A first name," irritation edged his voice.

Harris smiled, Malcolm realized he just gave the young immortal what he wanted and quietly chastised himself for it. "Oh that," he said, "nope, sorry didn't catch that. Left after it was over. I think he's still living there In Chicago. Great city by the way, not as exciting as London mind you but still a great city"

"Thank you Scott," he said, even though it pained him to say it. "That information was… most enlightening. I'll be sure to look into it after I arrive."

"Maybe I'll head over in a few months and see how things are going," Harris told him. "I always loved family reunions."

"That won't be necessary Scott," Malcolm quickly said. "Besides, more than likely this won't be a pleasant reunion."

As he walked away he heard Harris say, "That just makes thing all the more interesting."

He didn't particularly care what that twit found interesting. His mind was racing about this family of his. Taking out his cell phone he called his travel agent, "Hello David, it Randal. No everything fine. I hate to do this to you at the last minute but I had a change in plans. I need to go to Boston instead of Los Angeles." This other McAllister might have been in Chicago but Michel was there last he heard. And he had no plans on sullying his hands on somebody who probably a couple of generation removed.


	5. Chapter 5

They say their order was created when an Akkadian named Ammaletu witnessed the legendary Gilgamesh come back to life. The supposed first case of an Immortal being discovered by those who where not "blessed". Right then and there he laid the foundations to what would eventually be known as the Watchers. Their mission was to chronicle the lives of these beings, for they knew history that was either lost or forgotten. Not that they were allowed to interact, or interfere in the "Game" as they called it. Not to say they weren't discovered from time to time. No there were slips up, momentary lapses of judgment that lead them to being accidently discovered. Incidents like that could be forgiven, because every one made mistakes. Then you had someone like Dawson who practically gave the organization away on a silver platter.

Most were content in those duties, living their normal lives while they watched in secrecy. Then there were the others, a sect within the sect. The ones who recognized what these "Immortals" really were, abominations. Beings who laughed in the face of the Lord and what he created. They who were cursed to forever walk this Earth. They who saw it as their mission to lift this curse from them by the only means possible. And this wasn't the first group to think so. Going through the archives one could found instances of Watchers who thought this way and they acted. The Watchers stopped them of course when they discovered their actions and it would die down, but it would always come back. The last time was by a man named Horton. He was dead now but the "Hunters" lived on.

Trevor Rader remembered when he first discovered the truth about the Immortals. He was a teenager and stumbled into onto one of their little sword fights. His distraction was enough for one of the Immortals to look in his direction, concern etching his face. He remembered almost pissing himself as he watched the other one use that distraction to take the other's head, and the after effect. He soon came to realize that what he saw wasn't two humans in combat. A fact confirmed when he was recruited to become a Watcher himself. He gladly accepted, pledging his allegiance to them. But after awhile he slowly began to realize what he had to do. Knowing the history of the order he knew to be quiet about his belief, but he soon discovered others who thought the way he did. Being careful he acted disturbed by what they were implying just in case it was a test of some sort, but it wasn't. Slowly their little sect grew in number, but always careful about whom they let in. Once or twice they caught a spy trying to join them. Over the years he had been apart of this group he had learned to call most of these men friend.

Which made this night all the harder despite the necessity of it all.

He and a few of the others were waiting by an old wood shed located on some abandoned farmland. A perfect location for what they were about to do. Occasionally he would look at his watch, catching others doing the same. Running a hand through his fading hairline he watched as a station wagon pulled up. The driver and the ones riding in the passenger and back seat got out and they nodded to each other. Without a word they went to the back of the wagon and pulled their other "passenger" out. He plopped on the ground still struggling. Bound at the wrist and ankles they removed the bag off of his head and took the tape off of mouth. He looked at them in fear as they closed around him. As the leader of this group he walked foreword and calmly said, "Good evening Peter."

"Trevor," he asked in a shaky voice, "what's going on? What are you doing?"

"You know why we're here Peter," he said, trying not to betray the sadness that threatened to overtake him. "We all know why we're here." Peter knew it was over but he still refused to admit it.

"There's some kind of mistake Trevor," he said quickly, almost tripping over the words. "I know it. You know me Trevor, ever since you joined the Watchers."

"I knew the man," he stressed the word man, "who believed in the same goal I did. That man died last week Peter. A simple robbery gone horribly wrong according to the police reports. You were pronounced dead at the scene, another statistics. Then your body disappeared from the morgue."

"It was a mistake, why can't you believe that," he pleaded, as he started to cry. "It was just a man with the same name as me," he said talking quickly. "I've been out of town for the past week, a family emergency. That what caused all the confusion."

"I do want to believe you Peter," he almost called him old friend but caught himself. There would be no way he would dishonor the man he knew by calling this… thing that. "I really do. But you see your wife even said it was you after she was called in to identify you."

"She was hysterical," he said trying to grab his leg. Trevor stepped back letting the disdain show. "It was a sudden trip out of town. I didn't have time to tell anybody. I'm telling you the truth, Trevor you have to believe me."

"Perhaps I will," Trevor said. Then he took a revolver out of his overcoat and promptly shot Peter in the head. Watching the blood pour out oh his head he said, "After a simple test of course."

"What if he was telling he truth?", one of them said. Trevor located it as one the newer men in their Sect, a young man named Robert Wong. "I mean it is possible," he backed up a bit as the other stared a whole into him.

"We'll see one way or another won't me," he quipped. "Granted the man I knew wouldn't have been gone that long and not leave his wife of twenty years in the dark. Even if he was having an affair he would have made up something." Deciding to humor the young man he added, "In the slight chance I am wrong and he was telling the truth I'll do the right thing and turn myself in for killing him in cold blood. It is the least I could do for all the years I've known him."

"So how long do we wait?", the driver asked.

"It's hard to say, the strength of their abilities vary from Immortal to Immortal." Looking at his watch one more time he said, "Let's give it to morning. Then we can give him a proper burial in the light like civilized men if we are wrong."

They stood around and wait, almost a half hour later Peter breathed in hard as he came back to life. "Looks like proof to me," one of them joked.

"Oh God Trevor don't do it," he started crying again. "Please I'm begging you. You could use me as a spy. None of the other Watchers know about me. Imaging what kind of advantage this would give us, eliminating them from the inside."

"Did you really think I would ever remotely agree to that?", Trevor asked him. "Even if one of them didn't take your head you would have been tainted the moment you took one of theirs." Walking away the driver and one of the passengers grabbed Peter by the arms while the third went back into the station wagon.

"Please Trevor, don't do this! For the love of God don't do this!", he continued begging as they dragged him toward a tree stump by the woodshed. The other man came back out holding an ax and followed them. "Think of Emma! Think of my family!"

"I am thinking of them. They already think you're dead Peter," he reminded him calmly. "The Lord thinks you're dead as well and is probably wondering where you are." They forced him over the stump and held him there as the ax man took position.

"You son of a bitch!", Peter cursed at him while struggling to get free. "Have some fucking loyalty! Have some fucking compassion!"

"I am being loyal to the memory of the man I knew that died a week ago. And I know he wouldn't want to be an abomination. Porter hold him still if you will." The driver held on as the other man let go just long enough to grab Peter by the hair and kept his neck in place. Saying a quick prayer for the man he used to know and kissing the cross around his neck he announced, "Any time you're ready Marcus."

"No, Please God don't do …" Peter cried as Marcus raised the ax and brought it down on top of his neck with a wet thwack. The first strike silenced Peter forever as the spinal cord was severed. A few of them stepped back to avoid the blood splatter. It took Marcus several more times before his head was completely separated, a precaution on his part just in case Peter could come back from that. As the other man pulled the head away and dropped it to the ground the neck of the body started to glow. Trevor looked on disgusted as this so called Quickening danced around in the air looking for a receptacle before dissipating into the sky.

Waiting until it was totally gone he said, "It makes one wonder how they can do that in one stroke doesn't it."

"They had more practice at it," Marcus joked. The group shared a laughed, all except for Robert. He looked sick. "What's the matter junior, never took out one of these freaks before?"

"I knew him," he said staring at the body. "He brought me into the Watchers, understood when I mention I had problems with the very idea of immortality."

"And that man died in that robbery Robert," Trevor said. "We just sent him to God, where he was supposed to go afterwards. Honor that man Robert, not this thing we put out of its misery. Never forget that." The young man kept staring at the body. Trying to break the hold it had on him Trevor asked "So who are you assigned to watch?"

That work as he looked at him and tried to remember, "Ah… Harris, Scott Harris."

"Heh," Trevor smirked, "I was assigned to him once, years ago. I never thought I see that much of the world that quickly."

"It has been a bit of an experience," Robert admitted.

"Do you want us to take care of him?", Marcus offered.

"No," Robert quickly stated. Then he said, "Some of the others are on to me I think. If Harris suddenly died outside of the game they might suspect me right away."

"Smart thinking," Trevor reluctantly admitted. "The others are starting to get wiser about our action, ever since word about Horton got out. No, we should be careful about who we eliminate in the future. Make sure none of us are assigned to the target." Looking at his watch one more time he said. "We better get going, Marcus, Porter burn the body and the head. Robert, watch and make sure nobody walks in on them." They agreed, although Robert reluctantly did so. Then one by one they left he farm and headed home.

Pulling into the parking garage across from his apartment he took a second to search for a tinge of regret of what he had done. He was relieved that he found none and went to get a solid night sleep. He was stopped by somebody saying, "For somebody who's supposed to be watching me you are an extremely hard man to locate." Trevor slowly turned around and stared into the deceptively old face of Malcolm McAllister as he leaned against a pillar. There was a reason why he could never judge those who have slipped up in the past harshly, for he had done it himself.

"I was not aware this parking garage was considered holy now," he commented dryly. The immortal said nothing as he walked foreword. "To what do I owe the 'honor' of this visit?"

Trevor watched for any signs of the Claymore he carried with him, McAllister calmly said, "Thanks to a certain English twit I've recently become aware of the fact that I have family that is also immortal. I want to know who he is."

Trevor barked out a laugh, "Don't you already know?"

"And do you know everybody in your particular order?", he challenged. "An immortal can be alive for thousands of years and still not meet all of the others." Standing on the other side his car he continued, "It just a simple request, after all."

"Nothing with you is ever simple," Trevor said bitterly as he reached for his laptop in the passenger seat and saw the handle of his revolver under the seat. He toyed with the idea of grabbing it and shooting McAllister and using the abominations' own sword to take his head. But that might raise question like Robert was afraid of earlier. "So why do you want to know about this other McAllister?"

"More out of curiosity than anything," he answered as Trevor put the laptop on the hood of his car and powered it up. "If anything I want to see how many generations removed he is. The way I figure it he's a clansman more than anything else, like with the MacLeods. The older one was bearable when I meet him but the younger one was a pompous ass at the time."

"I think you're connection is a little closer than that," he said as he pulled up the file. "Owen McAllister, born in the year of my Lord sixteen hundred and fifty eight."

McAllister raised an eyebrow at that, "I do believe the correct terminology is 'in the year of our lord'."

"My Lord could not have created anything like you," Trevor told him. Malcolm seemed to ignore him as he appeared to be deep in thought.

"Sixteen fifty eight," he muttered, "I was still in charge of my clan then. I don't recall any baby being named Owen."

"That's because his Father wasn't in your clan at the time," he said as he turned the laptop around so the immortal could read the file for himself, "thanks to you of course." Trevor took a moment to savor the look of absolute shock on the immortals face. Almost like he had seen a ghost on the computer screen. That look quickly disappeared as he regained his composure.

"So," he said after studying the picture on the file, "this is William's bastard son." Reading the file a bit further he added, "And a half Irish bastard at that. Why didn't you inform me of this earlier?"

"Like I said I assumed you already knew," Trevor replied. "There has been some debate with our historians on which of you became an immortal first. He obviously became one at a much younger age than you did. But nobody is quite sure when you became one, outside of yourself of course.

"Well," he said smiling in way that made Trevor nervous, "I'm sure Michel would be very interested in meeting my nephew."

Trevor felt a chill go down his back, "You're going to set Dijkhuizen on him? Are you mad?"

"He's already looking to take a McAllister's head. I'm sure one that's watered down with Irish blood will do just as well."

"Wait," Trevor almost shouted as Malcolm started to walk away. "Why rely on that maniac when you can use somebody looking for a bit of revenge?"

"Alright, you peaked my interest Trevor," Malcolm said as he came back over. "But Michel will sure be disappointed if he doesn't get the call. Imagine what he would do if he ever learned about the Watchers."

Ignoring the thinly veiled threat he said, "Have you ever heard of an immortal named Heidenreich?"

Yes," Malcolm said slowly, "I meet him shortly after his so called daughter became immortal as well. It still confound me why he would call anybody his daughter after almost three hundred years is beyond me. But what does this have to do with my nephew?"

"Do you want to take a guess on who he thinks killed her?", he said while tapping the top of the screen.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello?", Owen asked as he answered his phone. There were only a couple of people he knew that would be calling this early in the morning. He was glad the caller was one he actually liked.

"Owen," the Father said, "Can you come by the church? I need to see you about something." Owen smile faltered as he listened to the preacher. He seemed off, almost like he was distracted by something.

"Father, is everything all right? You sound…"

"I…," there was a long pause, "I need to tell you in person." A nervousness edge his voice, "Please hurry." The Father hung up before he could ask more questions. That was not like the man. Getting worried he grabbed his jacket left his apartment.

The church wasn't far but the trip felt like it was taking forever. Trying to calm himself he tried to pay attention to his surroundings, a rookie mistake for all immortals as it was a good way to lose your head. He was distracted for a moment when he thought he saw a gentleman in his fifties look at him and say, "Abomination." He turned and looked at the man with some confusion, but ended up ignoring him. It was probably some nutcase anyway.

The church was in sight and he quickened his pace but stopped short when he felt the buzz. Owen looked around then realized it was coming from the church. "Father," he said feeling the concern coming back. He ran up the steps and flew through the doors "Father Andrews," he called out. He saw him in the front of the church looking both scared and relieved. Then he noticed the man sitting in one of the pews with a sabre leaning next on it on the aisle. Owen stopped short the moment he saw it, he knew the family crest on the gold guard all too well. He knew he couldn't avoid this forever. He ignored him at first and went to the Father to make sure he wasn't hurt. Then he looked at the other man with some trepidation, "Victor."

"Finally," he said as he got up. He was an older man who looked like he was in his forties. Dressed in a blue three piece suit, gray temples edged his blond hair. Vengeful gray eyes stared him down, "After a hundred and sixty eight years I finally got you."

"You didn't have to involve the Father," Owen told him. Victor grabbed the sabre and swung, just stopping at Owens' neck. His heart stopped momentarily, not for being that close to dying for real. For the fact he thought Victor would actually do it on holy ground. Looking him in the eyes he didn't see any hint of regret. "Victor…"

"I will not listen to the man who murdered my daughter," Victor said coolly. The father gasp as Owen found himself looking away. "Don't you dare look remorseful to me you bastard. I waited a long time for this day and I will have my revenge." Taking the edge of the sabre away from his neck he calmed down slightly and placed a piece of paper on the bench he was on. "I will give you a day to prepare yourself McAllister. I am civilized after all. But remember I have my sources and I will know if you decide to run again." Owen could do nothing but watch him leave the church.

Feeling very weary the Immortal dropped down into a pew and buried his face in his hands. Feeling the Father gaze on him he looked up. "He had a daughter?", he asked. Owen simply nodded. "Was she…?" Again he nodded. "How is that possible? You told me immortals couldn't have children."

"Long story," was his only response. Looking at him again and anticipating the next question Owen told him, "It's an even longer story."

The Father sat next to him, "Owen I know you Immortals have to precipitate in this Game as you call it, so I won't judge you for the things you have done in it. But if you feel the need to confess a particular sin you have been holding on to I am more than willing to listen."

"It's not that black and white Father," Owen told him softly. "Things might be simpler now if it was."

~1840~

Owen decided to make the journey to the states a couple of years ago. He was wondering why he done it ever since. Right now he agreed to come to Iowa to help out a friend run his hotel while he took care of a sick family member. He never carried much, all he had fit into a pack and some saddle bags, so he just had a horse as he rode into town. It was pretty small, just a few buildings by a river. Most of the people didn't give him a second glance as he stopped in front of the hotel and tied the horse up. Patting her down as he gathered his belongings he felt the buzz and looked around. A stage coach was pulling up at the same hotel. Owen watched a well dressed man with graying blond hair came out and looked him over. Then he looked in further into the stagecoach and saw a raven haired beauty look back and smile slightly. Owen found himself just looking at her until the other man stepped between them. It was right about then he realized both of them where Immortal. He looked him over again and introduced himself, "Victor Heidenreich."

"Owen McAllister," he said as he looked around to see if it was possible to get away incase this was a challenge. Victor tilted his head slightly when he said his last name but said nothing else. "I don't want any problems, I just got into town."

"As did we," Victor said. He looked back into the stage coach and said, "Natalya, go into the hotel. I'll meet you inside momentarily." She said nothing as she got out and smiled at him again. Again Owen couldn't help but stare at her as she entered the hotel. Victor looked stern as he said, "I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't look at my daughter in that way."

"Your what?", Owen said caught off guard.

"I know she's not really my flesh and blood," Victor said, "but I love her like my very own. Her mother was married to a good friend of mine in Russia who was dying. He knew he was going to die before she was born. His last wish was for his unborn child to have a father and asked me to be it."

"No offense sir but why are you telling me this?", Owen asked.

"I honestly don't know," he said with a slight laugh. "I suppose I had to explain it so many times it comes out of my mouth almost automatically now. But you seem like a friendly face," he grinned, "if I may continue? I am so used to telling it." Owen gestured for him to go on, curious himself on how this happened. "Well he died and like I agreed to I married his wife so she would have a father. But I was moving to Paris at the time and thought about leaving them there and sending them money to get by but as I said I am a man of my word so I took them with me. I was just going to give them a roof over their heads and leave it at that. In fact I was doing exactly that for the next six month and a few months after she was born. But her mother forced me to help keep up appearances and spend some time with her. Then she lost her mother when she was five due to illness. The more time I spent the more I saw her developed with wonder. Before long I started seeing her as my own daughter and quickly tried to make up for the lost time I foolishly wasted."

"So how did it happen?", Owen asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Because I was way too lenient with her," he said sadly. "I let her do things that are not that lady like although I tried to raise her to be as proper as possible. Most fathers would be stern and make sure their rules was being followed. No, I let her go explore the Swiss Alps all by herself instead of telling her no and she was caught in an avalanche. I was hoping against hope she wouldn't face a violent death."

"I'm sorry Mr. Heidenreich," Owen told him.

"Please call me Victor," he said. "The sad part is I still can't say no to her. That's why we're out her in this godforsaken part of the country. It was the only thing she wanted for her two hundredth birthday, but for the life of me I can't see why."

"If you don't mind me saying Victor she's probably read one of the stories they been printing nowadays and got excited."

"I had the same thought," he chuckled." I'm hoping the stark reality of this place will help her come to her senses." They stopped talking as they heard someone singing, Victor smiled as he closed his eyes and listened. "She always had a lovely singing voice. That's one of the songs she created herself."

"It's lovely,' Owen said mesmerized. "It must be hard traveling with her."

"It is at times," he admitted, "but I am her father. And I will protect her no matter what." Owen couldn't help but notice the threat in his voice.

"I don't go looking for trouble unless I have to," Owen told him.

"Good, then we'll get along just fine then," Victor said. He offered a hand that Owen took, "It's a pleasure to meet you good sir."

"Same here," Owen said. The hotel owner came out and greeted both of him and thanked "Jesse" up and down for coming out to help.

The next couple of weeks went by pretty smoothly. Owen and Victor were getting along rather well considering their different backgrounds. They even spent a day trying to catch some fish in that river. Victor eventually "allowed" him to say a few words to Natalya here and there. Things went so far that they shared sword fighting techniques they picked over the centuries. Although he quickly changed the subject or was vague when he was asked about how he was preparing Natalya in the Game. In any other situation this would have been the grounds for a good and lasting friendship.

Owen was laying in his bed one night, looking out the window. The way the sky looked in the dusk he felt it might storm before too long. It wasn't the only storm brewing as Natalya walked into his room unannounced in her nightgown. "I think you're in the wrong room lass," he told her.

"I hope you don't mind," she said as she closed the door. "Father got called away, something about getting a wire that arrived late or some sort."

"I heard him say something about that earlier. It must be important if it couldn't wait until morning."

"I rarely bother with such things," Natalya told him. "Father's business is his business after all. But he did say to come to you if I had any trouble." She smiled a bit, in way that made Owen uneasy, "You must be honored, my Father trusts no man the way he does you."

"I can't say for sure either way," Owen told her looking for any hint of trouble. "What's troubling you?"

She simply said, "I can't seem to fall asleep," then let her nightgown drop to the floor. Owen eyes went wide as he started at her naked body. With some effort he looked at something else. Slowly she got on his bed and crawled toward him.

"I don't think I can help you with particular problem lass," he muttered quickly. "It might be best if you went back to your room." He tried to back up but he ran out of room at the headboard.

"But this is the one problem I can't go to Father for," she said softly, almost whisper like in his ear. "Don't you find me attractive?"

"You're very attractive, beautiful in fact." Realizing those thought would make this harder to get out of he changed tracks. "It's not proper. Your Father…"

"Is not here," she said. "And what he doesn't know won't kill him." She started kissing him. Owen was having a hard time pushing her away.

"It's not the killing him part that concerns me," he told her plainly hoping she would get the hint. She didn't and kept kissing him. Every decent part of him screamed at him to kick her out of the room. Those screams got quieter with each passing second. Finally he gave in, threw her to her back, tore his clothes off and made love to her. He'd promised himself to regret it in the morning.

As Owen slept Natalya got out of the bed and quickly got dressed. Instead of leaving she searched his room until she found his long sword. Checking the weight a bit she crept to his side and stood there. Her voice barely above a whisper she said, "Out of all the men I've had, you are definitely up there. It's a pity I have to take your head." She raised it over her head and aimed the chop at his exposed neck. Owen rolled to the floor before it hit. He quickly grabbed her arms to keep her from attacking again.

"Lucky for me I'm a light sleeper," he told her. With a quick movement he took his sword back and held it to her neck. "Some how I doubt you are the innocent angel your Father thinks you are."

"My father doesn't know a lot of thing about me," she said defiantly. Owen took the sword away from her neck and started getting dressed. "What are you doing?"

"I am getting out of town," he told her. "You obviously are going to tell him I forced myself on you and there is no way he's going to believe his precious little girl is a whore. If nothing else I must thank you for it," he teased with a grin, "I've never been do relaxed in my life."

"How dare you," she told him and rushed out of the room. She entered her Fathers' room and searched every where hoping he didn't take it with him. Then she found his sabre and went back to Owens' room. She'd teach him for calling her a whore. He was already gone by the time she got there. Looking out the window she saw him heading for the corral. Natalya jumped out of the window and sprained her ankle as he hit the ground. It took a second for it to heal then she went after him, "McAllister!"

"Don't you give up?", he moaned as he was untying his horse. She ran at him swinging the sword. For somebody that was two hundred years old Owen was easily deflecting each strike. It was almost like he was dealing with a new born. "Don't keep up with sword practice do we? And we're out in the open."

"I've taken the head of plenty of immortals," she said, obviously angry at how well he was doing against her. "I know everything they know."

"Knowing is one thing," he said while parrying one strike, "knowing how to use it is another. Or so I've been told." Natalya kept attacking, getting wilder and wilder and using words that would make a gentleman blush. Trapping the sabre against a corral post he said, "Little lady, by the way you're acting, I have to say somebody should take you behind a woodshed and tan your hide."

Natalya got a furious look on her face, "How dare you!" She let go of the sabre and went to slap him.

Owen caught her wrist and told her, "I wasn't volunteering." He pushed her away. She lost her balance and fell into his horse. Some how her hand got caught in the stirrup as the horse got startled and ran off into the wilderness. She screamed all the way. Owen just stood there and watched them get smaller in the horizon. "Serves her right," he said. He started looking for another horse before looking back. With his sword out he jumped on another horse and went after her. He owed Victor that much.

The next morning Victor was finally able to come back after the storm kept him away all night and the whole town was in a frenzy. The moment they saw him they jumped on him everybody almost talking at once. He was able to get bits and pieces. Owen and his daughter was missing, somebody saw them fighting with swords. His mind was reeling from that. Then he saw his sabre, still by the post. Then somebody mentioned something about a how much lightning there was the night before and his blooded boiled. He trusted that bastard and he goes and does this. He stormed over to his sword and glared at it. Picking it up he screamed, "McAllister!"

~now~

Owen got to his feet, picked up the paper Victor left and headed for the door of the church. He paused midway and said, "Honestly Father my only sin that night was I felt sorry her and I've been regretting not listening to my gut ever since. If I survive this I'll explain everything."


	7. Chapter 7

Owen sat by the counter separating the living room and kitchen of his current apartment staring at his sword. He said nothing as he felt the buzz and Keith walked in a few moments later. He didn't even reply when the youth said hello. Keith looked the scene over noticing the whetstone beside him and the piece of fine grade paper he was using on the edge of his long sword. After several uncomfortable moments where his student stayed by the door Keith spoke up, "Are you going to teach me how to sharpen a blade or something?"

"Not yet, maybe I'll be able to," Owen said absentmindedly. His gaze drifted over to the piece of paper next to the whetstone and the address on it. He stared at his reflection in the blade. "Keith I want you to do me a favor."

"Sure Owen what is it."

"Leave me alone for a bit." He went on to explain, "If you don't hear from me by this time tomorrow go talk to Father Andrews. He has a name and number of someone I know. I trust this person with my life so I know you'll be taken care of."

Keith studied him, figuring out what he wasn't saying, "You going to fight somebody aren't you? And you don't think you're going to win."

Glancing at him briefly all he could only respond with, "Something like that."

"Then don't fight."

"I have no choice."

"Why?", he demanded. "Because of some stupid sense of honor? Because this is what we do or some stupid shit like that?"

"Because it's something I've been avoiding for way too long," Owen said. Letting the weight get to him again he said, "It's something that never should have started to begin with." Getting and walking over to his student he put a hand on his shoulder, "I promise you if I make it out alive I'll explain everything to you. But right now I need time to think, alone." Keith looked like he wanted to protest but accepted it without another word. Saying good bye, in what he hoped wasn't for the last time, he left Owen alone.

A few hours later Owen took his motorcycle out of the garage and headed for the address Victor gave him. It took him out of the city and into the suburbs and an old country house in the middle of nowhere. The sun setting over the horizon he felt the buzz before he came to a stop. Owen waited as Victor came out of the house, sabre in hand. Owen removed his jacket and took his long sword out of its holder after he got off. "I can't believe you actually showed up," Victor commented looking mildly astonished. "Did you come to your senses and decide to offer me your head in order to right the wrong you did against me?"

Standing there Owen felt he had to ask something before it was over, "What would you have done if you and Natalya were the last two?"

"Do not speak my daughter's name you murderer!", Victor exploded. "I will not hear her name sullied by your tongue."

Owen repeated, "What would you have done?"

"I made a vow to protect her no matter what," he seethed. "A vow broken because of you. Now take what's coming to you like a man you dog!"

Getting his sword up in a defensive position Owen prepared himself for what was to come, "I had no plans on surrendering my head."

"I should have known," Victor sneered, "just like the bastard you are." Owen didn't wait and went after Victor who replied in kind. It wasn't long before Owen found himself on the defensive. Switching to a style more suited to a katana he was able to catch Victor off guard, and get him some breathing room in the process. He tired to disarm Victor, maybe he'd try to talk to him, reason with him. But Victor was relentless in his attack. He couldn't help but remember back when they first met and they shared various fighting techniques. Back then he was deliberate, always studying his opponent, always looking for that opening he knew they would give him. Now it was like he didn't have a strategy, all he wanted was to take Owens' head. Owen remembered the words of an old teacher of his, saying this was the worst type of opponent, because you couldn't really study them and figure out a weak point in their offense or defense half the time.

The look in Victor eyes is what disturbed him the most, the look of sheer hate in them. He couldn't do this to him any more. It was a gamble but Owen couldn't let this go on like this. Their swords locked at the hilt and Owen grabbed his wrist and forced both of the swords over their heads. He looked him in the eyes and said, "I didn't kill her!" Victor tried to push him back, "Listen to me Natalya's alive!"

"Liar!", he exploded. He got his arms free from the lock. Before Owen could react he was punched in the face with the gold guard of the sabre.

In 1840 Victor response to Owen's question about that tactic was very different. "I would never do that," he said. "It may be a viable strategy but I my opinion it would violate the honor of my family's crest."

Now he was rocked by another punch to the face and he fell to the ground. "If she was alive she would have contacted me!", he spat. "She would have let me know!" Victor swung wild as Owen rolled out of the way.

"She tried to attack me on holy ground," he kicked him in the stomach to get him away and continued to try to get him to understand. Victor came back at him as he got to a knee and he barely blocked the attack. "I told her about the game. I told her about the rules." Victor attacks got even more vicious and forced Owen to start to start walking backwards while he defended himself. Not a good situation to be in, especially if you're too busy trying to protect your head. "She made me promise…"

"LIES!", Victor screamed and caught him off guard with a kick to the gut. Owen fell against a tree that he didn't see was behind him. Then he felt cold steel enter him and exit out his back. The blade of the sabre impaled itself into the tree and Owen was stuck there. At some point his hand opened up and dropped the long sword. Victor glared at him, "Even if what you say is true, you put the idea in her head. She went out and fought somebody and got herself killed because she didn't know what she was doing. So her death is still on your head!"

"She made me… made me promise…," Owen fought to stay conscious as he lost blood, because if he lost that fight he was never waking up again. Surprisingly Victor backed away and went back into the town house. Owen gripped the blade as best he could and tried to free himself.

Victor came back out carrying a bag, even from where he was Owen could tell something heavy was in it. Noticing his struggle Victor commented, "Try and free yourself if you want. I won't try and stop you. Even if you did it wouldn't stop your fate." Victor put the bag down on a log and opened it. "I never told you but I used to be an executioner in my younger days. Even after I became an immortal I would occasionally put on the black hood." He reached into the bag and pulled out an executioner ax. Owen started to struggle harder, "I've kept this more as a memento of those days. But today I will gladly bring her out of retirement do deal with you."

Slowly he felt the blade start to move as Victor approached. He reared back for a swing with a look of glee in his eyes. Owen removed the sabre from his gut and his knees gave away and dropped to the ground. The edge of the ax slammed into the tree where his neck was. As Victor pulled the ax out Owen took the moment he had to heal up a bit. The he rolled out of the way as the ax came at him again. Holding his gut he rolled out the way one more time and lashed out with the sabre. It cut the handle in half. Victor rage grew as watch the ax head fall to the ground and proceeded to attack Owen with the remains of the handle. Owen kept rolling out of the way. He felt the handle of his long sword with his free hand and grabbed it readily. Owen got to his feet, cut the handle again, then held the blade of each sword at Victors' neck, crossed at the hilt as he stood. He stared the older immortal in the eyes. Back when he first met him those gray eyes held laughter, hinted at a dry wit and over all kindness. Now they held nothing but rage, contempt and madness. And Owen knew he was the one responsible. "I'm sorry." He swung both blades and took Victors' head. Dropping to his knees he wanted to remember the man he met back all those long years ago. The man Victor was. Then the first bolt hit him.

Not far away, in the bell tower of church that was nearby Malcolm watched the entire thing through a pair of binoculars. Michel stood on the other side of the tower leaning against a wall not even looking in the fight direction with Harris a little bit away dangling his legs off the roof viewing things threw an old pirates telescope. Malcolm watched slack jaw as the Quickening consumed his nephew, "The half Irish bastard actually did it."

"What are you talking about old man?", Michel asked, silently cursing the fact Malcolm was able to find any holy ground this close. "You didn't think your nephew could do it?"

"A parent's rage is a powerful thing Michel," Malcolm said turning away.

"What parent rage?" Michel scoffed. "They weren't even related."

"Blood means very little in the over all scheme of things Michel," Malcolm put the binoculars away. "Victor raised his daughter and eventually grew to love her like any parent of blood would. And yet my nephew over there," he gestured toward the battle field, "is of my blood. But I could care less if he lives or dies." Looking thoughtful for a second he said, "And yet he over came a parent's rage. That would make him an interesting challenge, wouldn't you say so Michel?"

"I know what you're trying to do old man," Michel snapped. "And don't think I'm just going to fall for it." Malcolm said nothing but had that content look on his face that drove Michel crazy. "And what if your nephew lost? You would have dragged me out here for nothing." Darkly he added, "And I would have caught you off of holy ground eventually."

Not affected by the threat Malcolm got close and said, "Then I would say it was a good thing Harris followed me here. Wouldn't you agree Michel?"

Unaware that Scott heard them he glanced at them before returning his gaze through the telescope toward the younger McAllister, "Now that's not very interesting at all, is it?"

Owen waited for morning before calling Keith and the Father. Both of them were relieved to hear from him again. And both understood when he asked if it would be all right if he waited until later that day to see either one of them. He went to a park and sat on the bench trying to forget everything and just become one with everything. It wasn't going to happen when he felt the buzz and knew exactly who it was. Not looking up he asked, "You come for my head?"

"No," she said. He looked up, her hair was shorter now, and she always tried to stay dressed in the current fashion. But in a world were immortals usually lose themselves a bit at a time over the years Natalya always stayed the same. "If I was I'd have to offer my neck to somebody too. I'm as much to blame for this happening, if not more so."

~1840~

It took an hour but Owen finally caught up with Natalya and his horse. Well Natalya any way as she finally slipped free and the horse kept going. He stopped the one he was one and checked on her. She was unconscious, he arm looks like it was out of its socket and she was bloody from being dragged by the arm. But her head was still on her shoulders so she'd be fine. Despite of what she'd done he couldn't leave her out here, that up coming storm looked massive and who knew who would come across her out here. Scanning the area there was what looked like a missionary or a church not far from where they were. It was holy ground at least, no immortal would touch her there. Picking her up and draping her over the horse he rode off for it.

When he got close he felt the buzz coming from it and held up. God please let that be a decent one. Getting off the horse he made his way over, sword ready just in case. He saw a nun came out who looked both confused and excited, "Owen?"

"Susan?", he went over to her. "Sorry I mean Sister."

"It's alright but what are you doing all the way out here?" He wasn't sure how he was going to explain Natalya when she gave her a quizzical glance.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." While they talked Natalya came back and looked around. She was confused for a moment than she saw that bastard talking to a nun. They were probably discussing who was going to take her head. Well she wasn't going to die without a fight. She slowly got off the filthy animal they placed her on and found a branch that looked like it could do some damage. Screaming at the top of her lungs she charged them. Owen easily dodged her attack but he was too shock to do anything else. Why was she attacking them here of all place. Finally he found his voice, "Holy ground." She kept attacking, "Wait a second this is holy ground." His temper getting the best of him he grabbed the stick in mid swing and screamed "This is holy ground!"

"So what?!" she yelled.

"So…?", Owen was confused. Sister Susan had no idea what to think either. "What are the rules?", he asked suddenly.

"The what?", she shot back

"The rules," he repeated. "What are the rules of the Game?"

"What are you talking about?", she demanded. "What rules to what Game?"

"The game our lives are now under," Sister Susan said. "Fights are only one on one. There is no fighting on holy ground, any holy ground."

Playing a hunch Owen added, "In the end there can be only one."

"Only one? One what?", Natalya asked totally confused.

"There can be only one immortal," the Sister answered. Natalya blanched as she fell on her butt. Owen let loose a string of curses in various languages that he quickly apologized to the Sister for. Then he went into another round soon afterwards. What game was Victor playing here?

Natalya quickly clutched at the Sister as she snapped out of it, "You got to help me. Please I don't know what he was planning on doing with me? Please you got to help me!"

"It's all right child," Sister Susan said trying to comfort her. "You can stay her as long as you want. None of us will try to do anything on holy ground."

She looked relieved but still scared, then she looked at Owen. "Don't tell him where I am please," she pleaded." You have to promise me you won't tell him where I am."

Owen was divided on what to do. Susan watched him and gave him a slight nod when he looked at her. "I promise you he won't find out where you are from me." She was grateful to no end. The Sister helped her up and guided her into the church. Owen stayed outside and looked at the storm on the horizon.

Susan came back out of the back after awhile and found Owen stationed near the doorway. He watched as the storm raged. She had to admit it was most impressive. "She's sleeping now," she informed Owen who said nothing. "It took her a while to calm down so I don't think it will be a peaceful sleep."

"So now what?", Owen asked to nobody in particular, he was expecting the storm to answer with something other than lightning.

"I'll watch over her," Susan answered. "I'll teach her what she needs to know. I was a pretty impressive warrior before I took the vow if you will remember." He barely acknowledged what she said. After a few moments of silence she asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"I can't keep her father in the dark," he said, not looking at her. He knew he couldn't stand under the stare she was giving him. "No matter what he planned that's still his daughter. Besides people saw us fight so I know exactly what he's going to think once he finds that out."

"Owen you gave her your word that you wouldn't tell him," Susan scolded him. "On holy ground no less. Are you prepared to break that?"

"Do not try to pull that on me Sister," he shot back. "And my neck is the one on the line here. And after what she tried to do to me earlier I'm not sure she is worth that."

"She told me everything about what happened earlier," Susan informed him. Owen looked away embarrassed. "It's not my place to judge you for your indiscretions Owen. But remember this, that girl is two hundred years old and knows nothing of the game. Her Father made sure she was unaware this entire time. She talked about him a lot Owen. He taught her how to be a lady, how to interact in high society, even how to act in a foreign settings. But she knows nothing of the Game." She made him look at her, "Are you telling me you're comfortable with sending her back to that situation?"

Owen didn't know what to think. The Victor he knew these past couple of weeks loved his daughter to death. Deep down he knew he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. But different immortals played the Game in different ways. Natalya was proof of that. Reluctantly he said, "I won't tell him. But she has to at some point, I can't run from him forever."

"I'm sure she will," Susan agreed. "She just stunned right now. I'm not sure about this father of hers but they still have a connection. It's not our choice to break it." Owen silently agreed and waited for the storm to pass over before heading out, knowing he couldn't go back to town.

~now~

They were silent for a few moments, just staring out into the distance while sitting on the bench. Before long Owen spoke up, "All this time and you never told him. You kept promising me you would tell him. Every time I saw you, you told me you world so I could stop looking over my shoulder."

"I know," Natalya said, she couldn't look at him. "At first I was scared, I was scared of him Owen. My own father and for the first time in my life I was actually scared of him. I didn't know what he was going to do with me, or to me. After awhile I got a little selfish and began to enjoy my freedom from him. Seeing places he would say he would take me but never would. Exploring things on my own without him trying to filter things. For the first time I was actually enjoying life. Then I got afraid again. Afraid of what he would say. What he would do." She closed her eyes for a bit.

"I tried to tell him," Owen admitted, "during the fight."

"I know you did Owen. I knew you would if it came down to it. I'm surprised to kept quiet this long." She looked unsure for a moment, "There's a reason why I've been avoiding you these past few years. Because I finally did track him down and go see him. And he didn't recognize me," her voice cracked a little. "He told me how I reminded him of his lost daughter and started ranting about the bastard that took her from him. I tried to get him to see it was me. I told him thing about me growing up. I told him things that only we would know. I sang him one my songs." She started to tear up, "But he didn't recognize me. He was too far gone, I lost him to the madness that grew since then. I… I tried to put him out of his misery but I couldn't…". She put a hand over her mouth and tried to compose herself. "Despite of what you might have thought of him he did love me."

"I know he did," Owen told her. "I know it doesn't work this way but deep down I know he just wanted to protect you. I just wished he knew his daughter was playing the Game behind his back."

"I guess I was wrong," she said as a tear started to fall, "what he didn't know did kill him." She put a hand to her mouth again, but this time she couldn't stop it. She started crying, Owen knew this woman for a hundred and sixty eight years and he knew these tears were real. He put an arm around her and pulled her close while she cried into his shoulder "I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't want to lose him like this." Owen kissed her lightly on the top of her head and just held her.


	8. Chapter 8

How life treated you was totally dependant on how you looked at it, that's what Natalya always believed. Look at her fellow immortals, they refer to the time they first become woke up as their "first death". She always thought of it as her "new life". Living for hundred of years, seeing mankind grow along the way. How could anybody see that as a negative? Granted there was the whole Game thing and the other immortals trying to cut your head off in order to win it thing. But you couldn't have the good without some bad.

And she would never forget that day either. She thought she was dead, in fact she did die, then she came back and experienced the buzz for the first time. The feelings of confusion and fear she experienced when she woke up in total darkness. Then the doors behind her opened up and she realized she was in what was a hearse at the time. Her Father was the one who opened the door and let her out. Another bomb was dropped on her when he told he wasn't really her father and that she would now be nineteen years old forever. And she never looked back.

Her life after that was totally different. Her father took her and she met other like them. Natalya was surprised at how many of them they were. Yet after it all she still had a feeling her Father was leaving some thing out. He always said she was a little too inquisitive for her own good. But it was obvious to here something was off. They way her Father would change subjects or speak in hushed tones with other immortals whenever she was around. How he would act all different when another immortal paid her a little too much attention. Especially if that person had a particular sinister look in their eyes. Of course after that her Father would take them someplace and she'd never see them again. After all of that happening for so long how could she not wonder what was going on?

Determined to know what was going on she followed him one night, making sure to stay far enough behind he couldn't sense her. At the time she was positive it was because he was trying to protect her purity. She wasn't stupid she saw how most men looked at her, but she knew she could take care of herself if it came down to it. When her father finally arrived to his destination she saw the particular ruffian who was giving her a hard time earlier. Natalya was expecting them to have some words then her Father would send the brute running. Then both of them drew swords and they started dueling. Her first instinct was to rush down there and help him but he made her promise to stay at the side if she ever saw him duel with someone. At the time he assured her it was a mater of honor and nothing more, something she understood. Watching in awe of the duel she assumed it was over once he stabbed the brute through. Her heart stop as her Father, the nicest, kindest and most honest person she had ever known, took the man's head without a second thought. She watched dumbstruck as lightning emerged from the headless body and struck her Father repeatedly. Natalya ran back to the palace they were staying at and tried to drive out her Father's voice screaming in pain.

The next day he noticed how nervous she was and asked what was wrong. She told him she had a nightmare, he assured her it was nothing and she would be fine later. It wasn't a total lie, all she saw in her head that night was her Father cutting off that man's head. A few years later he had to leave her for the night, saying he had some business dealing to take care of and that he would be back in the morning. Again she thought about that night as curiosity started to get the best of her. She knew from an earlier experience there was an immortal living in a hobble in a nearby village. She knew she couldn't duel him like her father did the other one, but she had to know what that lightning storm was about and what it felt like. Something inside her wouldn't stop nagging until she found out. So she did the only thing she could, used how men looked at her to her advantage. To say he was disgusting as he had her way with her didn't even begin to describe it. Eventually he rolled off of her and fell asleep. Getting off the bed she looked round and saw a broadsword nearby. The sword was shaking in her hands her nerves was so bad but she did it. She took his head in one stroke and waited. She wouldn't know until decades later that it was called a Quickening but it was nothing like she could ever imagine in a thousand years. A pain she never knew existed ripped through her body but it was soon over as she dropped to the ground. Despite of what it did something inside of Natalya was driving her to find another immortal, she had to experience that again.

Her father was keeping all of it from her, so Natalya knew she wasn't supposed to know about it so she had to be careful. Waiting until he was called away or had business out of town she would searched out the closest male immortal and did the same thing over and over. But she was always careful to keep those experiences as far apart as possible out of fear Father would find out. Then she met a man named Owen McAllister and everything changed. He didn't fall for her trick, well he fell for part of it too bad he was a light sleeper. She learned the hard way that there was more to her life than what she thought there was and there were rules to follow. And all the time after she never knew why her Father didn't tell all of it and prepare her properly for the game. Deep down she knew Owen was right and he was trying to protect her. But now she'll never know what he intended to do if they were the last two. Then again it was probably a good thing that she'd never now, it kept her from thinking ill of the only Father she had ever known.

Now a days she did like her fellow immortals and tried to keep as a low a profile as possible. But there was a certain lifestyle she was accustomed to that she couldn't leave behind no matter how hard she tried. Thanks to her upbringing she could usually nail a high end job no problem. Like her current position at a posh art gallery. She bought and appraised paintings for the various clients they had. She was currently examining a painting this pompous windbag she was currently dealing with who was quite found of. She had to keep from laughing as he went over the history of the painting. The fake smile she plastered on her face was starting to hurt. She was almost grateful for the distraction the buzz gave her right before the bell over the door signaled that it was opening. She looked over and gave a genuine smile to Owen as he entered the establishment. The windbag turned up his nose up even more as he caught sight of him. "They'll let anybody I here now I see."

"That is my friend who I invited," Natalya informed him, knowing it wouldn't make a bit of difference.

"There is no accounting for taste," he replied, almost looking bored with the situation. "Now if we can get back to the matter at hand."

"Of course," Natalya replaced the fake grin with a different one. Time to let some wind out of this bag. Taking a good look over the painting she found what she was looking for. "Well you see sir, first let me inform you that while you have an absolutely gorgeous painting. But however it is a, in my personal opinion an incredibly brilliant," she paused a few moment, just for effect, "fake."

"What?!", he exploded. "How dare you say this is fake? This painting has been in my family for generations, given to us by the artist himself. Where the manager? I want to know what kind of credentials you faked to get this job. You obviously had to fuck somebody to get this job."

Dropping the smile she looked deadly serious. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Owen give the poor bastard a sympatric look. "If you will calm down for a second sir," she told him with an authority that took the windbag by surprise. "I will explain to you why this is a fake. If you would look closely here at the lake."

"What about it you fraud?" he demanded regain a part of his ire. Oh this was going to be sweet.

"Well if you know anything about the artist then you would he would always paint the peaks of the waves pointing to the left of the frame. Well if you will take a look at these waves right here." She used the end of a pen to point out a couple of particular ones, "They are pointed to the right."

"So what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well giving the history of the artist's style you would have a very hard time getting what the actual painting is worth from any dealer worth his or her salt," she tried not to looked too pleased, and knew she was failing miserably. He was so mad he was sputtering all the way out for the building. Natalya gave him a cheery wave, "Have a nice day."

Owen gave her a dubious look as he approached her and looked at the painting for himself. "Are you sure this is fake?"

"I should know, I painted it," she told him. "I had to do something while I was locked away in that monastery you stuck me in."

"You were begging to stay if I recall," Owen said dryly. She gave him the "whatever" sign. He looked around the room looking uncomfortable and she knew why too. "I'm surprised you still wanted to see me after what I did."

"I told you I was partially responsible too," she reminded him. A little softer she said, "Thanks for coming to his funeral by the way. I didn't want to be the only one there."

"It was the least I could do after all this time."

Smiling softly as she remembered her father she tried to brighten the mood a bit. Her father did teach her to not dawdle in the moment but to continue looking foreword. "Now I do believe I invited you to dinner so we could catch up on things. My apartment is right across the street, trust me you'll love it." After locking up the shop she took Owen by the hand and led him across the street. He protested slightly to being lead there like a child so she responded with a, "Don't argue with your elders young man." Well she was eighteen years older than he was after all.

She let him into her apartment and took a moment for herself to absorb the feeling of the room. She grew up in Paris so she always had a French influence to her home design. So it was always nice to come home to something familiar, especially after dealing with customers like windbag. Owen took a seat on her couch as she headed for the kitchenette to the side. Fortunately Father insisted she'd learn how to cook when she was younger. "Give me a few moments to get things started, then you can tell me everything that's been going on since the last time I saw you."

"It better be a quick cook time because not a whole lot has happened," he replied.

"Something had to have happened, you can't have been hiding under a rock all this time."

"I got a new student," he said after thinking it over. "He's name Keith, he's a pretty good kid."

"You give him a sword yet?", she asked.

"Not yet," he replied not looking particularly pleased.

"Don't wait to long," she told him after getting the oven going. "One of these days he's going to run into somebody who's not going to care if he can defend himself or not."

"I know I know," he said. "I'm still teaching him how to use one, he's a little slow on the uptake there."

"That's the age we live in I guess," she said. "Then again it took me a while for Susan to teach me how to use a sword properly too." Stepping away from the stove she walked over until she stood in front of him. Playing with the collar of her shirt she teased, "So do you want to search each other for weapons now or later?"

"Natalya," he said looking uncomfortable.

Dropping onto the cushion next to him she crossed her arms and looked annoyed. "You had no problems while you were running from my Father."

"And he was still alive then," Owen said looking ashamed of himself.

"It's who we are Owen," Natalya told him. "I killed peopled you knew and cared about and you had no problem afterwards."

"And they challenged you," he told her.

"And we both knew my Father was going to challenge you the moment he laid eyes on you again. Owen there's nothing to forgive here. If anything I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness for putting you through all of this."

"Well if you're going to be on your knees…", Owen had a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he gave her a sly grin. She slapped hard him on the chest for even thinking that. The rest of the night it was like old times at least. They talked for what seemed like forever. Then they felt a faint trace of the buzz, "You expecting anybody?"

"Just you," she answered and went to the window. She looked down and saw an eager looking brown haired man looking up at her. Natalya got out of the window and pressed herself against wall looking horrified, "Oh God."

"What is it?", Owen asked as he went to the window and looked out. The man below looked furious the moment he saw him

"What are you doing with my Natalya!", he demanded. Owen just looked at her.

"He's a former student of mine from a few years ago," she explained. "I tried to get rid of him after he became a tad possessive. He never got the hint."

"Natalya!", he cried out again. "You know we were meant to be together. That night in your bedroom where we became one you I knew I could never be with another. Deep down you know it too."

Natalya pinched the bridge of her nose totally embarrassed at what was going on. She knew Owen was staring at her with a stupefied look, "You slept with your student?"

"It was a pity fuck," she said quickly through her teeth. "If I knew it would have lead to all of this I never would have done it." Peeking around the corner to the street she added, "Besides he was really bad at it too. It was over in like two minutes."

"Wow," Owen said while leaning against the wall, Natalya shot him a warning look but he kept going, "you're a slut."

"That wasn't funny the first twenty times you said it and it's not funny now," she snapped at him. "You are so lucky you're in my top three." Looking out the window she shouted at the street, "Go away Tim. You don't need me any more."

"Yes I do and I'll kill any man who get's in the way of what we have."

"We don't have and never had anything!" He kept going on about their destiny and what not. People were going to call the police before too long. And wouldn't that be fun to explain.

"Want me to take care of it?", Owen offered. For a second she actually considered it.

"No," she finally said, "it's my mess I'll clean it up." Pulling a thin blade katana out of it's holder she jumped down to the street. Like a dog Tim followed her into an alley. "I'm challenging you Tim," she said plainly. "Draw your sword."

"Anything for you Natalya," he said as he drew a US artillery sword out of its' hiding place. She came at him striking high. He blocked and parried each strike she aimed at him. She noticed he wasn't making a move to attack her. She got a bad feeling about this but couldn't stop in fear he would pick that moment to take her head. This went on for a few more minutes before she slashed the blade horizontally neck high figuring he would block it too. Instead he dropped his arms and stood there. She couldn't stop in time as she realized what was happening and the blade sliced through his neck with ease. She stood there looking stunned as his body crumpled to the ground, that fucking bastard just let her take his head. Any other thought she had were interrupted while his Quickening assaulted her. She did manage to curse his name for the entire time.

When she got back to her apartment Owen opened the door for her. "You all right?" She said nothing as she dropped the sword by the door. "Maybe I better leave. I already turned off the stove so you don't have to worry about this place burning down."

"No," she said, "it's all right. I'm just stuck with the bastard now. I'm just glad I can't feel him or I'd never be able to sleep at night."

"So when did you start using a katana?", he asked. "Last time I saw you were using a rapier."

"I like to change things up every so often. What's the big deal?"

"You change swords more often than most people change their underwear," he said. "Of course if you ever wore any you'd know that."

"And I have yet to hear you complain about it," she smiled slyly. She started rubbing the side of her neck and tried to stretch it out. "I think I might have pulled something." She started heading to the bedroom while unbuttoning her shirt. "I could really use somebody to help get the kinks out with a good deep massage."

Owen stood in front of the bedroom door with his hands in his pockets. "So are we skipping dinner then? Because I had an early lunch." Her shirt shot out and wrapped around his neck. He didn't put up much of a fight as she pulled him into the bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

~1968~

It was mid September and the city of Chicago was still talking about the riots that happened during the Democratic National Convention. But Father Martin Andrews never cared about politics all that much. No he was more concerned about saving the souls of those involved on both sides of those riots. Father Andrews found himself in a unique position. Just about everyone in his immediate family backed the war in Vietnam. But he found himself siding with his fellow twenty years olds about how pointless this war actually was. His older brother Steve was the only one who didn't give him any grief over it. He had served in the Korean War the decade prior and had no wish to see another one. He saw no need on driving the current generation of young men to an early grave either.

Which was why he felt some confusion when Steve insisted he met one of his old war buddies. So he humored him, thinking he could pass the time away as they talked about some old stories they shared. Their dad and his old WW2 buddies did it all the time. Except for this one individual that kept trying to tell them not to glamorize the war in front of the kids. They called him names but they still remained friends. Intending to go over the sermon he planned for this coming Sunday in his head he entered the restaurant and quickly found Steve, It wasn't hard he waved him over as soon as he entered, "Marty over here."

"I see you Steve," he said as patiently as he could. He may have been a reverend now but his older brother could still push his buttons, like the fact he insisted on being called Martin since Marty was so juvenile in his eyes.

"Another coffee," Steve told the passing waitress, "Black, no sugar." Well at least he still ordered the coffee the way he preferred it. Coming over he saw Steve with a man that was younger than he was expecting. "Marty this is Matt Hawkins. This was my best bud back in Korea."

The dark hair man stood up and offered a hand that Martin quickly accepted. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Steve wouldn't shut up about you back in Korea."

"Hey my little brother had the ability to be the first in our family to do some actual good in the world," Steve said. "Who wouldn't be proud of that?"

"I just became a priest Steve," Martin said blushing a bit. "I'm just a simple man trying to help spread God's word to those who are willing to listen."

"Personally I think this world could use a few more priest and few less soldiers," Matt said as he took a sip of his coffee. Steve grunted in agreement. Martin studied Matt. There was something about him that seemed off. Part of Martin was wondering his Steve was pulling his legs or something. They caught him staring and he quickly apologized for his lack of manners. "I get it all the time," Matt simply said not showing a hint if he was offended or not.

"The company always said Matt was blessed with young looks," Steve joked. "We also called him one of the luckiest SOBs on the planet. Nobody can remember him even getting a scratch back then." Martin watched as Matt shook his head and laughed. Yes the man before him looked young. But there was something about his demeanor and in his eyes that made him look much, much older. At first Martin put it down to the Korean War. Lord only knew Steve looked like something inside him aged a bit when he got home. But this was different, like the individual sitting with them had been in more than his fair share of wars. Then there was his voice, to Martin it sounded like he had an accent that was lost. He almost reminded him of his grandfather who lost his accent decades ago according to his mother.

It wasn't long before Steve was telling him a couple of stories about how Matt saved his life several times. Including one where he would swear on a stack of bible he saw Matt get shot dead in his tracks. Matt looked a little uncomfortable talking about that one and quickly changed the subject, "So Steve tells me you the reverend at the local church. That's quite an accomplishment at such a young age."

"Well when Father Johnson passed away suddenly and I had to fill in. The church decided to give me a chance to lead on a regular basis. Even if some of my views are somewhat unpopular."

"They're a little anti war I gather," Matt said.

"More like pro anything that doesn't get anybody killed," Steve answered for him. "Despite some of the protest he still packs him in." Dinner went well as Steve and Matt caught up with each other. Matt even asked about some of the stories Steve told him about Martin. Of course he chose some of the more embarrassing stories he could think of to tell his buddy. They said goodnight and Martin went home to get some sleep while Steve decided to show Matt one of his favorite bars downtown.

Martin thought that would be the only time he would ever see this Matt person. But to his surprise he saw Steve and Matt in the fourth row of his church that Sunday. Steve looked a little hung over but he gave him a thumbs up. Afterwards he met up with them, "What are you two doing here?"

"I never miss one of my little brother's sermons," Steve said. "Besides after all the talking up of you I did Matt wanted to see you at work."

"I have to say," he said, "what I said the other day is even more true, this world does need more priests like you in it and less soldiers."

"I'm just doing what the Lords wants of me," Martin said. "Any other man would be doing the same as me."

Matt looked like he was going to say something but stopped. He had this weird look in his eyes then looked around a bit. Distracted he said, "You're a better man than I am Father. I hate to run off but I have… to be somewhere soon." He left them without another word.

"What was that about?" Martin asked.

"I'm not sure," Steve answered. "He did the same thing back in Korea a couple of times too. He would get that look and disappears for a while. Then he'd be back like nothing had happened." After talking for a few more minutes Steve started looking up at the sky. When Martin asked what was wrong he said, "The times Matt did that there was usually a freak lightning storm, it didn't last long but it always caught us off guard. I'm just trying to see the clouds coming this time."

A few days later Martin was carrying some groceries home, he had to admit it was more than he could carry but tried to do so any way, when Matt caught up with him. Taking a couple of the bags he said, "Let me help you Father."

"Bless you my son," he said out of habit. But he was grateful for the assistance. "I'm afraid it's been awhile since I shopped for some food."

"I've been guilty of the same thing myself," he said.

"So what are you still doing around?", Martin asked. "Steve gave me the impression that you were only going to be here for a couple of days, a week at the most."

"That was the plan," Matt said. "But I got to walking around the city and decided to stay. Besides it was time for me to move on anyway. I only stay in one place a few years at time."

"That's a very strange life for somebody to lead," Martin commented. "It would be hard to make any sort of connection in that period of time."

"I'm a little nomadic at heart," he said. "Sometimes I stay in one area longer than I usually plan to but it's always temporary. Besides they say home is where you hang your hat."

"Don't you get lonely being on the move all the time?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But I have a few friends that are the same way." He stopped in his tracks and got that same weird look in his eyes before he looked around. This time he found something and Martin saw it too. A mean, almost gangster, looking individual staring right at them. Matt said something in a language he didn't recognize, then dropped the bags he was carrying and pushed Martin into an nearby alley, dropping his bags as well. All he said was, "Run!"

"I got you now McAllister!" the man yelled as he gave chase. Martin, despite his fear, wondered who this McAllister was that Matt was obviously being mistaken for. The alley turned out to be a dead end very quickly as they spilled into an open area with no route to continue. The gangster quickly caught up with them and Matt looked trapped. "No where to run McAllister," he said. "I've been waiting for this ever since Korea. Ever since you killed Soonji." Martin stared at him Matt when he realized he wasn't denying anything.

"She challenged me Rodger," he said. Martin looked at the man he knew, that old look he had was replaced with something else, something dangerous. "That how the Game works, you know that. I didn't want to fight her but she wouldn't let it go."

"Doesn't matter now," Rodger pulled a revolver out of his coat and shot Matt in the middle of the chest. Martin was horrified as he heard him gurgle and die. Despite of what this man might have done Martin dropped to his knees and started praying for him. He looked up and saw Rodger come closer with a machete in his hands saying, "There can be only one."

"What are you doing!?", Martin demanded.

"This doesn't concern you," Rodger said pushing him away. Holding the edge of the blade by Matt's neck he raised it over his head.

"Stop!", Martin grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. He didn't care about what Matt may have done. He didn't even care that Rodger still had a gun on him. But he would not stand by and let some sadist desecrate a corpse. "This is inhuman!"

"I told you this doesn't concern you!" Rodger tried to resist the priest but Martin kept a death gripe on the other mans arms. "Let me go you bastard before he wakes up!" Now Martin was convinced this person was sick in the head. He couldn't hear anything outside of his own heartbeat pounding in his head. Rodger got an arm free and socked Martin in the mouth. He dropped like a bag of bricks to the ground. "Fine you want to die too. I'm happy to oblige." Martin was too scared to even pray, his eyes only on the glint coming off the machete. It came down at him and he squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see it coming. There was metallic sounding ping and then nothing else happened. Martin opened his eyes and his heart stopped as he saw Matt blocking the machete with a long sword. Rodger looked disgusted as he stared dagger at the resurrected man.

"Shooting a guy dead and trying to take his head is one thing," Matt said. "But attacking priest, now that's just low." Rodger yelled as he tried attacking him with the machete. Matt easily blocked each strike at him, trying to take the fight away from Martin. From where he was Martin saw Rodger go for the gun again. Matt saw it too. In a sickening move Matt cut the hand with the gun clean off the wrist. Rodger dropped to his knees holding the bloody stump with his other hand and Matt stood beside him. Without any hesitation Matt beheaded the man with one stroke.

Martin looked on horrified at what he was seeing. But nothing prepared him for what happened next. Matt screamed at the top of his lungs as it looked like God himself was smiting him with lightning for what he had done. It took a moment for him to realize the lightning was coming from the headless body at Matt's feet. After it was over Matt fell to his knees and looked at Martin. He didn't take the time to decipher what was in the man eyes as he ran out of the alley as fast as he could. He passed a blond hair youth who saw them enter the alley a few moments prior. If he stayed around he would have saw him watch Matt come out from the alley from a distance and study him intently. An English accent saying, "McAllister huh? I know a McAllister, this could be interesting. When the time is right that is."

It was another few weeks before Martin saw Matt again. For the first time he wasn't sure how to act around somebody. He always considered himself a pretty good judge of a person's character but this took him by total surprise. Neither of them said anything for the longest time. "Who are you?", Martin asked breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What are you?"

Rubbing the back of his neck he said, "I'm immortal."

"Are you kidding me?" he said without thinking. After what he saw weeks ago he shouldn't have been surprised he said something like that.

Without another word he pulled a knife out of his pocket. For a brief second Martin was afraid for his life. Then Matt put it to the back of his hand and cut deep. Despite everything saw this man do his first instinct was to help him. But he held up his other hand to keep him at. Martin was sure his eye was playing tricks on him but it looked like lighting was dancing around the cut in his hand for a few seconds. The next instant Matt wiped the blood out of the way and showed him the hand. There was no sign of a cut. Martin dropped into a pew in total shock. Matt, or whoever this was sat in the one across the aisle. A hint of an Irish accent edged his voice as he said, "My real name is Owen McAllister and I was born in the year sixteen fifty-eight."

"Why?", Martin stammered out, "why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I owe you my life," he said his voice returning to normal. He rubbed the front of his neck slightly before continuing. "And I didn't want you to think I was a monster of some sort. And trust me I know the look, I've seen it enough times."

"You took a man's head and…," he could come up with the words to describe what eh had seen. "What was that all about? Who was that man?"

"Rodger was somebody I met back in Korea. We weren't exactly friends but we weren't enemies either. He had a Korean girl friend who recently became immortal at the time. I was on guard duty one night and she tried to attack me by surprise. I tried to talk her out of it but…," he trailed off. "I was trying to scare her. I got the feeling that Rodger glorified the Game to her or something, making it to be something it's not. I was going to come short of taking her head, but she moved when I wasn't expecting it." Martin wasn't sure what to expect but deep down he was positive of one thing. No matter how old a person may be there was no way they could fake the regret he was seeing in this man eyes. "I tried to explain what happened but he wouldn't listen."

"That's twice you said something about a Game. What game?" With some reluctance the other man told him everything. How immortal fight each other to win the prize that nobody what it was. About the Quickening, the lightning he saw, he absorbed and it's purpose. And some of the rules that went along with it. Martin sat there in stunned silence. Then he looked the other man in the eyes. "Why do you do it?", he finally asked. "If you have no idea what it is why risk everything to win it."

"I only fight unless I have no other choice," he said. "But there are some out there, they don't care, they just want to win. In my world it's kill or be killed. You can hide on holy ground but eventually it finds you." Not sure what else to say he got up and left. Martin thought it over and stood up.

"Matt… Owen," the other man stopped and looked at him. "Do you have similar regrets like that one?"

"I've made more than my fair share of mistakes."

"If you ever feel the need to confess those regrets my ear is always open."

Smiling a bit he said, "Thank you father. Like I said you are a better man than I am."

"My job is to save souls Owen, even those as old as yours. Maybe one day you can call me friend."

"I hope I will be able to as well." Thinking things over a bit he said, "I'll see you around Father."

"Thank you for being honest with me."

"I could never lie to a priest," he said. "My mother and Father taught me better than that." He left the church and left Father Andrew alone. He didn't know it at the time but that moment would be the start of friendship both men would treasure fort he rest of his life. And one Owen would always be grateful for.


	10. Chapter 10

Owen stood over the stove as the eggs fried in the pan. His mind was barely concentrating on the task, but he wasn't worrying about anything important at the moment. No he was just happy in general. Well maybe not in general, the person still sleeping in the bedroom was a major reason why he was in such a good mood. There was a reason why he always looked foreword to being in the same town she was in. Everything just seemed to go away for a few months. It was a weird relationship but he wasn't complaining one bit. Of course if anybody told him about all of this a hundred and sixty eight years ago Owen would said they were crazy. He wasn't sure about Natalya but he was damn happy he was a light sleeper.

He heard Natalya stir in the next room and start to get out of bed. After a few minutes she appeared in the doorway wearing a shirt of his that just went past her hips. Somehow that shirt never looked so good. Then again he could never figure out how she could look so beautiful first thing in the morning either. He had known some woman that took forever to look like that after they got up. As she walked into the room he said, "You're up early."

"I smelled food," she answered as she leaned on the other side of the kitchen counter. "And I always loved your cooking. World War Three couldn't keep me away."

"Then where were you during WW1 and WW2?", he teased.

"You know what I mean." She took a moment to study what he was doing, "Eggs, sausages and I'm guessing… pancakes?"

"Right in one," Owen said as he plated the eggs. "I'm even taking a stab at some blueberry muffins. I already got them in the oven." He looked back and saw the look in her eyes, blueberry muffins were her favorite.

"My," she said with some surprise, "somebody has some extra energy this morning. I think I might have done something wrong last night."

"Trust me you did nothing wrong last night. You did some thing that I'm sure are illegal in most states and probably a couple of countries, but nothing wrong. As somebody keeps telling me it all in how you look at it."

"This sounds like a very smart person," she said with a knowing smile.

"Oh very wise beyond her years," He said smiling back. Walking over to the counter he leaned over a bit to look her in the eyes, "One of the few bright spots in a very lonely existence."

"Oh poor baby," she said as she stroked his cheek. "How ever do ever you manage without this person?"

"I keep looking foreword to our next encounter." He leaned in and kissed her passionately. They stopped when they felt the buzz. Both of them looked at the door as it opened. "Why did I give him a key?"

"Hey Owen sorry to come without call…ing…", he sort of stopped as he saw them standing there.

"Hey Keith," Owen said. "This is Natalya. I told you about her, right?" She wiggled her fingers at him. Keith hand barely twitched as he kept on staring at her.

"He's cute," she told Owen.

Studying Keith's expression, and realizing where he was staring, Owen looked down a bit before saying, "I know this will be one of the dumbest things I have ever said. But please tell me you're wearing underwear."

"Do I ever?" she answered with a wicked grin. Owen grabbed her shoulders and tried to turn her a bit so she wouldn't be flashing his student anymore. She pouted a little but complied. Keith still looked locked in place. His only reaction was one of protest after a pencil flew through the air and smacked him in the forehead.

"Breath boyo," Owen told him.

Natalya had a surprised look on her face, "I haven't heard you call anybody 'boyo' since World War 2."

"Things change," was his only explanation. "Besides he felt like a boyo. Of course I expected him to have better manners than just stare," he said a bit sternly, quickly falling into the teacher role.

"Sorry," Keith said a bit red faced, actually if his face was any reader he'd look like a beet. "I didn't know you had company."

"This looks like a teacher-student moment," Natalya said straightening up. "I better get going."

Owen quickly told her, "You don't have to leave. I'm sure Keith not going to stay that long." But she was already in the bedroom and closing the door behind her. He shot a nasty look at Keith, "Thanks a lot."

"I didn't know," he repeated. "If I knew you had your girlfriend over…"

"She not my girlfriend," Owen told him. It was true after all they weren't officially a couple. They were just two ships that went bump in the night. Repeatedly.

"So what are you then?", Keith asked. A small look of triumph passed over his face as he realized he tripped the older immortal up.

"You know. We're just friend," Owen blurted out. "Just with some… you know… benefits… and stuff…"

"What Owen is trying to say is," Natalya came out of the bedroom wearing some tight dress pants and a loose blouse, putting an arm around him she finished, "we're fuck buddies." Before Owen could say anything she kissed him. Owen stopped protesting after a second then pulled her close. Keith was starting to feel uncomfortable and wished he was elsewhere at the moment. Finally breaking away she said, "See you later 'buddy'."

"You better believe it," he told her and gave her a quick swat before she got out of range. She wagged a finger at him then gave him one more quick kiss then waved bye to Keith as she left. Keith just started at Owen after she was gone. "What she said."

Keith looked deep in thought for a moment, "Uh Owen?"

He poured himself a cup of coffee, "Yeah Keith."

Slowly he started, "Since you're not officially a couple, would you have any problem if I asked her… out?", he faltered a bit as he looked at his mentor.

Owen just stared at Keith over the rim of his coffee cup. Finally looking away he said, "Boyo, she'd break you in half."

Well the day didn't start like he thought it would, but it could have been worse. He gave the Father a key to his place too in case of emergencies and they would have no warning what so ever. And wouldn't that have been fun to explain. Of course now that his day had some free time in it he might as well get some errands done he'd been putting off. That was the one thing about immortality, you think you have all the time in the world to get things done and yet you find more ways to put things off.

Owen was never one to believe in signs, but maybe he should have taken Keith walking in on them as one. Almost all day he was getting the buzz. But whoever it was would quickly get out of range before he could locate who it was. He was being followed, no doubt about it. The only question was by whom. He was pretty sure it wasn't Natalya, this type of hide and seek wasn't her style. Taking a deep breath as he felt it come and go again he decided to be patient. Whoever it was would make themselves known before too long. It was getting dark by the time he felt it again. This time he saw a flash of somebody in an alley. "I am officially tired of whatever game this is," he muttered before entering. Incase he was wrong about the source he didn't draw his sword as he entered. Owen didn't get far before he saw a blond hair youth sitting cross legged on top of a garbage can, a mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes.

The youth hopped off the can and bowed, "Scott Harris, a true pleasure to meet you."

"Owen McAllister," he replied studying him. Harris put his hands behind his head and started walking around him. Turning to follow him Owen was on guard for any tricks.

"I know who you are," he said not even looking at him as he walked. "I've been following you all day you know. And I must say you are nothing like your uncle."

"I don't have an uncle," Owen told him.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't," Harris commented. "Only your grandparents know for sure I suppose. Them and myself that is."

"If this is a challenge then this is the weirdest one I've ever seen."

"Who said this was a challenge?", Harris asked innocently finally stopping right in front of him. "No sword is in my hand, no malice is in my intent. But," he held up a finger and started walking again, "I am interested in you. I'm wonder how good you actually are now that I'm getting a good look at you. This could be a problem."

"And what problem is that?", Owen asked getting a bad feeling all of the sudden.

"Your uncle brought in an outsider," Harris said. "I shouldn't have been surprised I suppose, he's not the most confrontational person in the Game. Maybe that's where I get it," he said looking thoughtful, then shrugged it off. "You and your uncle, now that would have been interesting, but you and this outsider I don't know."

"If this supposed 'uncle' of mine that I have never heard of sent somebody after me why are you telling me this? And how do I know you're not this outsider just to throw me off guard?"

"Well you don't," Harris said answering the second question. "That what makes this interesting. But I'm the one who told your uncle about you and he changed the rules. Truly bad form I have to say."

"What are you talking about?", Owen demanded.

Harris smirked, "I just want things to stay interesting that's all. That's not going to happen if you go down early. But Big Evil…"

"Who?", Owen asked but Harris kept on talking.

"… well he can end this before it even gets going and we can't have that, now can we?"

"You take this guy on then," he told him.

"I just get the pieces together, what happens after that is up to the pieces." Harris looked thoughtful again, "Hmm, I do take after him don't I? Don't know why I never realized it before now."

"Are you done? I got things to do."

"Yes you do," Harris said stopping again with his back turned toward him. Owen didn't fail top notice he was blocking the only way out of the alley. His hand inched toward the handle of his long sword, this was smelling more and more like a trap by the second. "But I do have to make sure you're up to this new challenge first." He spun around with a cutlass now in his hand. Owen drew his long sword and took up a defensive position. Harris stood sideways with the cutlass raised about shoulder high, "En guard."

Harris came at him using a style Owen had only seen pirate movies. The problem was it was working for him. Of course Harris was looking like he was actually enjoying this. Owen held his ground blocking each strike, looking for a hole to exploit. Actually there was something about the way he was fighting that looked familiar but Owen couldn't place it. "You ever been to Japan?" Owen asked after getting some space between them.

Harris stopped and rested the blade on his shoulder, "Yes I have as a matter of fact. This temple on this little island off the main island. Have you been?" Owen only nodded. "Well now, that does make this interesting than doesn't it?" Harris attacked him again but Owen quickly got him on the defense. "You have a bit of your uncle in you, you know that?"

"I won't take that as a compliment," Owen told him. Sparks started to fly off their blades as the deadly dance went on. Harris was still smiling all the way. Owen swung the Long sword right at Harris's neck. He back flipped out of the way, the blade just missing him. Owen ducked a retaliatory swing then popped back up just to punch him.

Harris stepped back holding his mouth, "Bad form, seriously bad form." He came at him again. The blade of the cutlass was swinging so fast it was almost a blur. Owen was able to lock hilt and force the point of both swords to the ground. Harris let go and spun around with a kick. Picking the cutlass back up he told Owen, "You're good, but you might have to be better. Big Evil is serious business."

"Do you think I care?" Owen thought he had him just about figured out. But he couldn't afford to get overconfident about it now. Harris dropped the smile looking serious for the first time. Clashing swords one more time neither of the backed up. Harris kicked him the gut than ran for a wall. Getting frustrated Owen followed. Harris jumped on top of a garbage bin then flipped off. Owen ducked a bit to avoid getting hit. Harris landed on his feet and swung with all he had as Owen turned around with a killing strike. Their arms blocked each other as they stood there.

Harris's eyes glanced from Owen to the blade at his neck a few times, feeling a trickle of blood go down his skin after he twitched a bit. Gingerly placing a finger at the edge of the blade he pushed it away saying, "Alright let's call it a draw."

Owen was in no shape to answer. The blade of the cutlass was embedded in his neck since he swung a second too late. The edge of the blade was touching spinal cord as little arcs of lightning were trying to escape the wound. Going pale it took Owen a few tries to grab the blade and rip it out of his neck. Dropping the long sword he grabbed at the hole in his neck while he went to a knee loosing a lot of blood. A few moments later he was on the ground and lost consciousness and soon he wasn't even breathing as the blood pooled around his head.

Harris paid no attention to him as he died. He was resting the sword against his shoulder and pacing back and forth, "Not good, not good, not good." Stopping to look at Owen laying there he continued pacing, "Not good, not good, not good at all. How is this supposed to last and be interesting against Big Evil if you can't even beat me? I held on to this information for decades just giving you chance to get ready and you do this to me." Putting the sword away he kneeled down and started searching Owen's body, "I can't leave you out here like this. Somebody could finish the job I started and that just won't do. Don't worry I make sure nobody touches you before help arrives." Finding a cell phone on him he looked through the list. "Hmm, who going to know what you are and not take advantage of it. Natalya, sounds like she could be fun in other ways." He hit call and waited.

It wasn't long before he got an answer, "Geez Owen already, you usually need a day to recuperate."

"He's going to need longer than I day I think," Harris told her.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Your friend in an alley by 35th and 8th street and almost lost his head."

"What the hell did you do to Owen?!"

"If you want him in one piece I suggest you hurry and get him. Nobody is going to be as nice as I am after all." He ended the call before she could respond. "You better hope she gets here fast. Who knows when Big Evil is going to show up. And he wouldn't pass this up if you paid him."


	11. Chapter 11

~1683~

Life wasn't easy for Owen growing up. As a child he always heard the others boys taunt him with the fact his Father was an outcast. But his Father always told him not to mind the idiots, if they couldn't get past that then there was no point in bothering with them. Then one day he came home after getting into a fight with those same boys for saying the same thing. Owen was sure his father was going to beat him for not listening to him. Instead he sat Owen down and told him. "I am proud of you for defending the family's honor. But you have to learn to fight only when you have too and not before. Trust me you'll live longer." Owen looked up to his Father, he was always strong, upbeat. Never once did he admit about being depressed or angry about being forced out of his clan. But as he listened to him talk about his old village Owen could see that he did, just by that far off look in his eyes. Then at the age of ten a great big hole was knocked into his world when Owen and his mother lost him when he went out at sea. He quickly assumed the mantle of man of the house because that was what his Father would have done. Never once showing any signs that he missed him, although he did terribly.

When he was older he had to take care of his mother more and more. It seemed like she wouldn't admit that he was never coming home and it was eating her away inside. His head was telling him to make her see the truth, but his heart wouldn't let him. She was suffering enough, if clinging on to this last piece of hope was keeping her going then he wasn't going to deny her it. Truth be told part of him hoped she was right. But through it all he found love in Deborah. She was one of the few people who looked past the stigma of his Father's outcast status and the rumors of dementia in his Mother and only saw him. Owen burden seemed to grow lighter when he was around here. Even his Mother seemed like her old self when she was around. Despite the objections of her Father they married.

Five years after they wed Owen grew a little lighter attitude, feeling normal for the first time in his life. Everyone said Deborah had a good affect on him and he was hard pressed to disagree. Things were going good, he took up his Father old position as fisherman since they lived near the coast and the catch was usually a good one. While most of the village was happy for them, some spoke that there was something missing behind their backs. There were times both of them felt that missing piece as well, looking at the new parents every year. But they tried not to it let it affect them too much. They knew they would be blessed with a child sooner or later. Not that the subject didn't come up every so often. They were walking in the woods one day when Deborah said, "So when are you going to give me children? My Mother is starting at it again."

"Well I hope you told her it hasn't been for a lack of trying," Owen told her.

Her jaw dropped, "Owen McAllister, I can't saw that to my Mother. I'm starting to think the town is right that you have a little of the devil in you."

"They said that about my Father for years," Owen said. "Although," he said looking a little deeper into the woods and hearing the sounds of the river, "I do believe I'm in the mood to try again," and he started pulling her toward the sound of the river.

"Owen we're out in the open!", She protested, but she wasn't really resisting.

"Then we better hurry before somebody comes along," he said pulling her off the path and into the trees. They found an open area by the bank. Owen quickly dropped to the ground. Propping himself up on his elbows he told her, "Well hurry up woman I haven't got all day."

"You do have the devil in you," she said with a laugh. She got on the ground with him and started kissing him. Soon his hands found the familiar curves of her body.

"Well ain't this nice."

Owen and Deborah both looked up and saw three rough looking characters sneering at them. Owen, looking right at the dagger on the ones' waist, got up and pushed her back, "Stay behind me Deborah."

"How sweet," the apparent leader said coming foreword. "Now you're trespassing on our land, so you'll have to pay. Gold or a taste of your woman would do nicely." Owen pushed her farther back. "Looks like the boy doesn't want to pay. Take it from him."

The other two came at him looking like they were going to enjoy every second of this. Owens' hand found a sizable rock about the size of his fist. With everything he had Owen smashed it against the side of the closest ones head. He went down in a heap as Owen turned his attention to the other one. The leader ran in and tackled him to the ground. Deborah tried to pull him off of her husband but a backhand knocked her down. A solid punch to the bandit's face got him of Owen. Pulling Deborah to her feet he yelled, "Run woman!"

The leader grabbed him around the neck while his back was turned and threw him in the river. The other one grabbed a hold oh Deborah and threw her to the ground. She screamed for all she was worth. Owen tried to go to her but the ring leader knocked him down. Wrapping both hands around Owens' neck he held his head under the water. Owen pounded away at his arm, trying to get free. One hand did leave his neck and he fought harder. His mouth opened as he tried to scream after that dagger plunged into his chest. The ring leader stabbed him again and again as the water around him went dark red. Through the haze and blackness he saw the shadows pull his attacker off of him. His world went black as the current of the river took his body away.

Owen woke back up with a start in near darkness. Everything felt different, looked different, seemed different. He grabbed his head as he felt a weird sensation right before his stomach started to twist in knots. Looking around he saw an older man with weathered skin sit by a small fire. A broadsword was close by his side. Not looking in his direction he said, "Finally you're up." He started toward him and Owen tried to back away. "Relax boyo," he said, "if I wanted you dead you wouldn't be breathing right now."

"Who are you?", he demanded. "Where am I?" Owen remembered everything at that moment. Looking at the holes in his shirt he felt sick, "What sort of devilry is this?"

"Maybe it is, none of us can truly say." He said with some mirth. "But I can say you and I are more alike than you think. And my name is Finlay."

"I need to get back," Owen said getting up. "I need to find Deborah."

"It'd be best to forget her boyo," Finlay said returning to the fire. "I found you floating at sea a few hours ago and I don't know how long you been out there. Besides you're not one of them any more. They shouldn't concern you."

Owen just looked at him like he wasn't of this planet. Seeing an opening he ran away. If he stayed around long enough he would have heard the old man sigh. Owen ran through the forest, pretending he knew where he was going. He had to get back to her. After a few hours he found things and landmarks he recognized and made his way back home. His heart stopped as he found himself near the cemetery. A freshly dug grave grabbed his attention. His legs refused to work as he made his way over. The marker next to it grabbed his eyes first, it said Owen McAllister. He dropped to his knees as he read the one next to it, Deborah McAllister. "NOOOO!"

He felt that sensation again and saw Finlay come toward him. Standing behind him he bowed his head slightly out of respect. Owen cried as he realized he was never going to see her again. He hadn't cried like this since he lost his Father. "Stand up boyo," Finlay told him, "Be a man instead of crying like a new born babe." Owen stayed on the ground. "I said get up," he told him. He grabbed his arm to haul him to his feet. Owen popped up and took a swing at him. Finlay easily dodged it and let him fall back to the ground. Owen got up and tried it again. This Time Finlay was able to pin him against a tree. "First rule boyo, we do not fight on holy ground. Remember that if you have any honor. And show her some respect if you miss her that much."

"She was my life!" Owen told him.

"And that life is over," Finlay shot back. Backing away Owen slid down to the ground one more time. "I know it hurts, I felt it more times than you can possibly imagine." Sitting down next to him he looked a little more sympathetic. "You're one of the lucky ones you know. No one who knew you knows you came back. They'll remember you for who you were and not some demon spawn."

"What am I?"

"You're like me," Finlay replied. "You are immortal. You will remain alive until another one of us takes your head off your shoulders." Owen was suddenly very ware of the broadsword hanging by his waist. "Relax boyo," he said realizing what he was looking at. "Like I told you before if I wanted you dead you wouldn't still be breathing."

"Why do you want me alive?"

"I want to give you a fighting chance," he said. "There are plenty of us out there more than willing to take a newborn's head without a second thought. But some of us, well we remember somebody showed us the way and taught us the rules. We feel the need to give somebody else that same courtesy."

"My home…"

"I told you you're not one of them anymore." Getting up he offered Owen a hand. Reluctantly he took it. "No you have other things to worry about now. The more you are prepared the better."

"Does that include the other rules?"

"All in good time boyo," Finlay patted him on the back "All in good time. Your first awakening is soul shaking enough as it is. In the morning I'll explain everything to you." He glanced at the markers he was kneeling before. "McAllister, I knew a clan of Scots with that name a long time ago."

~1708~

Both of them could smell the sea air at the docks as they waited for the ship's crew to finish preparing to leave. Owen had been under Finlay's tutelage for a little over twenty five years now. Although there were times Owen wondered why he still hung around the older man. Around friendly Immortals he was courteous, if not a bit wary. But when among regular humans he was condescending if not altogether rude. For some reason it rubbed Owen the wrong way, but he stayed more out of loyalty than anything else. A young child in rags came up to them. It looked like she hadn't seen a decent meal in a couple of days. "Please sir," she said through a cough, "can you spare a few coins so I can get my brother something to eat."

"Get out of my way you filthy beggar," Finlay shoved her aside.

Owen stayed back for a few moments instead of following. Getting the girls attention he dropped a few coins by her feet, winked at her then followed his mentor. "It's a good day to set sail," he commented nonchalantly.

"You still too soft Owen," Finlay scolded him. "That girl was probably an outcast, kicked out of her village or something. Not worth anybody time or effort."

"My family has been branded with outcast status as well," he said. "It is not a good feeling."

"And you are above such matters now. How many times must I tell you that?"

"And if a person forgets where he comes from then he is lost," Owen argued. That was something his Father always told him. "If we forget we're human than where does that leave us?"

"I am not having this argument with you again," he told him.

"What is you problem with the humans?" Owen asked. He has many times before but never got a straight answer. Now he was determined to get one as he stood in his way. "I am not getting on that boat until you tell me."

"I have been around for over a thousand years and I have seen how petty they are. How needy, violent. How destructive they become."

"Sounds like some Immortals we've come across," Owen commented dryly. "I think part of the reason you want me to leave is so I'll stop asking you about it."

"I want you to grow Owen," Finlay said. "You need to explore the world."

"I have explored things," Owen protested.

"I mean beyond the borders of this land," Finlay corrected him. "There's a whole other world out there Boyo. You should learn as much as you can. The more well rounded an Immortal is the better the chances he has of winning. That's what I believe." Heading off for the ship again he added, "Besides it will be good for you to get away from here. You're too tied up in the past. You need to be thinking about the future and the Gathering. That is the only concerns we have now." They reached the ship and Finlay faced him. "And you need to make this journey alone, as we all must. Take care of yourself boyo. And watch your neck."

"You too Finlay," Owen patted him on the shoulder and boarded the ship. Owen always promised himself he would return home one day. In three hundred years he never kept that promise.

~Now~

Owen woke up with the usual start. But when he breathed in his throat clenched up tight. One hand went for his neck as the other instinctively looked for the sword by his bed as he was feeling the buzz. He realized a few things in matter of moments. He wasn't in his bed, his sword wasn't in reach and there was a something around his neck. The neck part became clear as he remembered his last few moments. He nearly lost his head, so why wasn't he dead. The sterile air he was smelling was telling him hospital. But how did he get there? He found his answer by looking around the room. Balled up in a chair in the corner was Natalya, holding on to her katana. From where he was it looked like her mascara was running a bit. Getting out of bed as gently as he could so he wouldn't disturb her he made his way into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A bandage was wrapped around his neck. Taking that off revealed a scar going halfway around his neck.

He stared at it before leaving the room and entered the hallway trying to find out where he was. A familiar face turned the corner. "Owen what are you doing out of bed?", Susan asked. He tried to say something but his voice came out raspy. "Don't talk for a moment," she told him as she examined him. "You lucky most of your vocal cords were still intact so you should sound normal, but you need to take it easy for a bit. I seen some cases where the vocal cord where cut clean through and they never sounded the same. But you're going to be stuck with that scar though. I have never seen a neck wound on an Immortal heal completely. I'd do a study on it but I don't think I could get a grant. Or any willing volunteers for that matter."

"I'm feeling better now," he said but his voice still sounded a little rough.

"You always were stubborn," she said. "I think this is the first time you visited me at this hospital. Natalya has been here more time than you." She stopped fussing at his neck and looked at him, "I didn't know what to think when she called me a couple of days ago. I'm glad she did though I don't know of anybody else who wouldn't have asked any question about taking in a dead man. Outside of that preacher friend of your but I don't think she knew how to contact him."

"Owen!", Natalya ran out of the room looking frantic. She laid eye on him and looked very relieved. Then she looked angry, "Do not scare me like that again. Do you hear me McAllister?"

"Go easy in him," Susan told her. "Let him rest up then tear into him. Besides your still in a hospital after all, think of the other patients. And we still have to find out what happened to him." A door opened a little further down the hall and a young man of nineteen with blond hair walked out looking very pleased. He looked in their direction, smiled and gave them a cheery wave.

"He happened," Owen said with a grunt. Without warning he grabbed Natalya's katana and drew it out of it's sheath.

"Owen not in the hospital," Susan said.

"Is it on holy ground?", he demanded.

"Close enough," the youth said pointing at a cross on the wall.

"That voice," Natalya muttered. "You where the one who called me on Owens' phone."

"Scott Harris," he said with a bow, "at your service."

"You did this too him." Natalya went to take her katana out of Owens' hand but Susan grabbed it and the scabbard before she could.

"There is to be no fighting in this hospital, not while I'm around. Is that clear?", she looked at all three of them. All of them silently agreed, although Owen and Natalya both looked ready to continue it. "Scott why are you here if you caused this?"

"I wanted to see the other person in the only known tie in Immortal history. It was quite historic wouldn't you say?" Owen didn't reply. About then a nurse stumbled out of the room he came out of. Her uniform was a mess. She looked over in their direction, saw Harris them stumbled away in another direction. He started looking pleased with himself until he saw Susan staring at him. "Now Sister it's not what you think," he said quickly. "I made her moan, groan, shiver, quiver and made her feel all fuzzy wuzzy on the inside. But I didn't do anything improper."

"Was she a willing participant?", she asked.

Looking lost for words for a second Harris asked her, "How would you define willing?"

"Come on Owen," Natalya said grabbing his arm "lets get you back to bed."

"That's a little cheeky," Harris said, "right in front of the Sister and all." She said nothing as he took Owen back to his room and closed the door. "Well that was a little rude."

"Why are you really here Scott?" Susan asked. "I've known you since you were a boy. You wouldn't check up on anybody unless you had another motive."

"There's no point in lying to you Sister," Harris said. "I'm making sure things stay interesting." She rolled her eyes realizing he was in the middle of one of his games again. "Big Evil been sent after him. I want to make sure he's up to snuff."

Susan heart filled with dread, "Scott you didn't."

"Not me," he replied. "No the rules were changed behind my back." A grin reappeared on his face. "But now things are in motion and I have no intention of stopping it. But he better last a while or I'm going to be upset." Harris walked away with his hands behind his head. Susan watched him leave then looked at the door leading to Owens' room.


	12. Chapter 12

Malcolm paused when he felt the buzz as he headed for his meager apartment. For the first time for awhile he was actually afraid, he was caught off of holy. His imagination ran a little wild as he considered the possibility that Dijkhuizen was in there waiting for him. He pushed those fears aside, there was no way Michel could have followed him, he hadn't seen him in days. Still he reached for the handle of his claymore as he cautiously opened the door. That fear quickly turned to annoyance as he discovered who the intruder was. Sitting upside down on the couch with his head hanging off the seat was Harris, watching some sort of garbage on the television. "How did you find out where I lived Harris?"

"Did a little checking and found out which apartment complexes where by holy ground," he said. "And there's a nice little Mosque right down the street."

"You actually thought it out?", Malcolm asked in mild amazement. "You didn't listen to the wind or what ever it is you do."

"Just an idea I got from a little bird at a hospital. What's that in your hand?", he asked changing the subject.

Malcolm glanced at the CD case in his hand. It couldn't hurt to tell the twit. "I blackmailed that stalker of mine to get me a copy of the file on that half Irish bastard they call my nephew."

"You that curious about what he had for breakfast this morning?", Harris asked as he flipped the channels.

"Rader claims he could only go up to week or so back." Malcolm snorted, "He said people would get suspicious if he copied anything more recent." Harris nodded. Malcolm paused for a moment. He could have sworn that English twit just smirked for a brief second. That was always a sign that he might know something he didn't. Then again there were a couple of times Malcolm did some checking based on that expression and ended up on a wild goose chase just because he wanted to be entertained. He'll ignore it for now, Harris was probably setting him up for something. Popping the disc into his he typed in the password Rader said was mandatory for this, in case it fell into the wrong hands.

Harris popped up behind him and leaned on his shoulder, "I know, you want to know when his birthday is and trying to figure out something appropriate to get him at the same time. That's very big of you." Malcolm held his tongue. Owen's Watcher file popped up and both of then scanned the first few pages. "Click on his first teacher. You can tell a lot about an immortal based on who taught him."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Malcolm sighed. Much to his surprise a file on this Finlay character did pop up. It wasn't much, just his name, age some basic info and a picture. He just happened to look up at Harris and was caught by surprise again. Harris was gripping the back of his chair and just stared at the photo. For the first time ever he saw something that resembled hatred in the younger Immortal's eyes. Without a word or warning Harris stormed out the door. "Now what could that be about?", Malcolm scratched his chin as he looked back at Finlay's picture.

"The wheelchair isn't necessary," Owen complained again. Natalya pushed him toward the door while a blond nurse with short bobbed hair walked beside them. She was a newer immortal under Susan's care. Outside of that, whatever it was, with Harris she was friendly enough to be around. She and Natalya talked while ignoring Owen's complaints. Finally he hit the wheel brakes and the chair came to a quick stop and he quickly freed himself. Natalya had a few choice words for him for the unexpected stop. "I can walk on my own two feet. I've been doing it for as long as I can remember."

"And how many times are you going to get released from a hospital," Natalya shot back. "I say enjoy the perks while you can. Besides you're going to need your strength later when I properly welcome you home."

"Susan did warn me about you two," the nurse said.

"Don't mind her Serenity," Owen told her taking the chair from Natalya and parking it next to a wall, "she's got a one track mind half the time."

"And I have never once heard you complain." To Serenity she added, "Actually I never hear him complain at all so I must be doing something right."

"I think Susan left some things out," she commented to herself. "And please call me Ser. All my friends do."

"Sure thing," Natalya said. "Now help me get this big lug back in the chair."

She pointed toward the exit, "He's already at the door."

"Hey wait up," Natalya called out and went after him. "Owen, say a few words in your old brogue for me."

"Why?", he asked as she got in his way.

"I want to make sure you can still do it. I hate to think that almost losing your head cause you to lose it permanently. Come on please, please, please."

Owen walked past her, but his old accent slipped out anyway, "You're crazy woman."

"I always loved that accent of his," she said to Ser as they followed him out. "It broke my heart when he finally got rid of it."

"Susan said that happens to a lot of immortals," Ser said. "Like they slowly lose who they are or something."

"Only if you let it," Owen said as he held the door open for them.

"Why thank you," Natalya said with a little curtsy. "And Owen's right. You only forget who you are if you let it happen. I'm proud to say I'm still the same person I was, just a little more worldly then what I was. We should hang out Ser, I could tell you a lot of things about being an Immoral."

"Then I'd go to Susan for the truth," Owen said. Natalya slapped his arm. All three of them froze as they felt the buzz. Both Owen and Natalya's first instinct was to move Ser between them until they located who it was. Natalya spotted him first and got Owen's attention to see if he knew who it was. Owen turned and felt his jaw tighten up. An older man with weathered skin walked toward them. Owen immediately got the girls behind him despite Natalya's protest.

"Good thing I got here in time boyo," Finlay said with a wave that Owen didn't return. "Susan said you were injured when I called her. I just had to see it for myself. Did you forget everything I taught you?"

"I told you not to call me boyo," Owen spat at him. Natalya looked at him in surprise. She has never seen him act like this before.

"You're still not upset about what happened are you boyo?", he dismissed his anger. "That happened years ago."

~1943~

Owen quickly got rid of his parachute as he looked around him. He and the special force unit he was in dropped into France with only the upcoming dawn as light. It was a tricky mission but it was their only chance to get in without being seen. They were lucky none of the German heard the plane on the way here. It seemed so noisy he was positive it was waking the dead along the way there. The first order of business was to find the rest of his squad and determine if they were close to the target area. He went a few yards before he felt the buzz and went into a protective stance immediately. There were a few rumors floating around of some of the shadier Immortals shooting another one first before taking their heads. A rustling in the trees made him look up, "Jackson?"

"It's about time you looked up," he said. His chute was caught in the tree. So far he didn't get the idea to cut himself down yet. "How did I let you talk me into doing this mission?"

"We were ordered boyo," Owen reminded him trying not to laugh but failing.

"That beside the point," he said. "God I am never doing this parachuting shit again." Gunshots rang out silencing them both. Owen ducked while Jackson struggled harder to get out of his predicament.

"Stay where you are," Owen told him. Jackson cursed his choice or words as he hung there. Owen stayed low as he made his way toward the direction the gunshots came in. Then he heard them again. Years of battlefield experience told him those shots weren't coming his way. He heard a woman cry out right before another shot fired. Owen started running. He found a small farm and a couple of dead bodies, a man and a small boy, and felt sick. Quickly he located the body of a woman, also shot. He heard somebody else cry out and turned to see a girl no more than fifteen back away from a man in a German uniform. Before he could react she was shot by the soldier as well. "No," Owen said as he made his way toward him, raising his rifle to shot the bastard in the back.

He only got a few feet before the buzz stopped him. For the first time ever he was actually glad one of these bastards was an Immortal. The he turned around and Owen stopped immediately. An all too familiar weather beaten face looked at him. "Owen?", Finlay said. "What are you doing here boyo?" Looking Owen over a bit while he was still stunned he grimaced a bit, "I was afraid you go and join the wrong side of this war."

Finding his voice Owen demanded, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My job," his mentor sounded like he was amazed he would ask that, "what else would I be doing? My superior heard rumors that these humans were helping the resistance and I was sent to check it out."

"You're with the Germans?", Owen couldn't wrap his mind over what he was seeing. He and Finlay might have saw thing differently at times but this was beyond anything he could imagine. "You're with people who goal is to take over everything? You, the man who told me the best way to grow as a person is to be as well rounded as possible. That meant studying other cultures and how they do thing according to you. How does this help anybody grow?"

"And things were growing a little too wild boyo," Finlay said. "Sometimes you have to weed things out before the rest start growing properly. I heard the message and I found myself agreeing with them. This world might be a little better off if one power was ruling it. It's not like things were running all that well before all of this." Looking at the corpses around the farm he added, "Of course things would go easier if the troublemakers would just stop what they're doing and see we're doing the right thing."

Remember what drew him here and what he saw Owen felt his anger raising again. "And where in all the garbage they've been spewing does it saw you have to kill the entire family."

"The man was a suspected rebel sympathizer," he said waving Owen off. "There was enough evidence that I saw that supported that claim. He denied it of course, when do they ever confess? So I took matter into my own hand. Of course any survivors would tell what happened and possibly turn the man into a martyr. I've seen it before."

"The kids…", Owen started to say.

"Would have just picked up where their father left off," Finlay told him. "You have to think about the future. Haven't I always told you that?" He studied Owen for a few silent moments. "Are you going to cry up like a newborn babe again? Like you did after I found you." Walking up to his former student he put a hand on his shoulder, "They're just mortals Owen. They are beneath us. The only reason why any of us are in this war is because, well let's face it, we don't have much of a choice."

Owen slapped his hand away. "You murdered an entire family."

"Get your head out of the clouds boyo," Finlay told him. "They are the enemy. The enemy dies, that's how war works." Turning his back on his former student Finlay walked away. "I'll let you go this time Owen, for old time's sake. But next time you might not be so lucky."

"You're not walking away from this Finlay." He turned around as Owen removed his backpack and retrieved his long sword from inside.

"Are you challenging me boyo?", he said totally amused. Reaching for his broadsword he added, "You think you can take the man who taught you?"

"Don't call me boyo," Owen told him plainly. Before either of them could move artillery fire came out of the woods. Owen ducked out of instinct while Finlay was riddled with bullets. Hiding his sword Jackson and the rest of the unit ran out of the forest.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing running off like that Peterson?", his commander demanded. Giving him the abridge version of event, the commander understood as he looked around. "Damn Krauts," he said, "I don't think they're human at times. At least this is one less we'll have to worry about. Get you gear back on soldier, we got to move before any of his friends show up."

"Yes sir," Owen said absentmindedly. Staring at Finlay body, he entertained the notion of just taking his head right then and there. But he would be hard pressed to talk his way out of them seeing the Quickening, much less why he was chopping up a dead body. Even if he was the enemy. Grabbing his pack he quickly got back in the group and they headed off.

Walking next to him Jackson leaned in a bit and asked, "Are you ok Owen?"

"I'm fine bo…", he started to say out of habit. Boyo, he never said the word before he met Finlay. Even he wasn't even sure where he picked it up he said he just started saying it. Out of respect for his mentor Owen used it for a term of endearment for those he trained in the ways of the Game, or for very close friends. Now he wasn't sure what to think. Instead he said, "I'm fine Jackson."

~now~

"They were an innocent family," Owen said.

"It was war," Finlay snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" Natalya and Ser looked at the door as Susan came rushing out. "Two of my favorite students in one place, who would have thought." When she didn't say anything he said, "Susan we lived through the same time, more or less. Tell Owen he's making a mistake at not letting this go."

"The only mistake," She said slowly, "was when I let it slip that Owen was here. Owen told me all about it Finlay, there as no need to kill the entire family like that. What happened to you Finlay?"

"I think that cross went to your head." Finlay turned in disgust, "all of you are crazy. It was just a bunch of mortals."

"I let you get away once Finlay," Owen said. "I'm not doing that again."

Slowly Finlay turned back around, "So you do think you can take me. Finally found your spine after all these years. Fine over there then," he pointed to an empty lot. Owen nodded and both of them walked over. Natalya went to stop him but Susan got in her way.

"Get Serenity into the hospital," she told her. When Natalya didn't immediately comply she said, "Do what I say for a change Natalya." Without another word she followed them over. Entering the lot she was confused when she found them just standing there, then she noticed the third man walking toward them. With a jewel covered cutlass resting on his shoulder he stared a hole into Finlay. "Scott?"

"Never thought you see me again did you?", he said to the older immortal. "In case you don't remember me let me give you a hint. Mid fifties back in Paris. There was a little bird I may or may not have had feelings for at the time. I stayed there for a month so I think I did, I never stay anywhere that long unless I got something going. And you killed her, in a church of all places. No Immortal is supposed to kill on holy ground."

"That only applies to other Immortals," Finlay told him. "And she was a thief who took something important from my employer. He wanted to keep things quiet and gave me carte blanche. It was only business." When Harris didn't look convinced Finlay looked at him and Owen. "What is it with you crybabies and these pitiful humans? You breathe on them hard and they die."

Harris glanced at Owen, "He may be your teacher and all but as far as I'm concerned he's all mine. Unless you have a problem with that?" Owen fingers found the scar on his neck. Eyeing Harris he wanted nothing more than to get a little payback. Instead he walked away and leaned on the wall next to Susan. Satisfied Harris brought his cutlass into position, "En guard."

"I'm going to enjoy this boy," he said as he brandished his broadsword. Harris came in fast coming at Finlay in that pirate style of his. Finlay held his ground refusing to back up for this whelp of an Immortal. Suddenly Harris jumped back a bit causing Finlay to fall foreword a bit. He corrected his balance in time to block the cutlass. "Did you think you had me boy?

"I'm just getting started." Harris pushed him back and came at. Watching from the sidelines Owen was still having a hard time keeping up with Harris's blade. But from he was right about something he saw from before, the kid spent some time with Naoto. Although he did take some pleasure in the fact Finlay was looking frustrated with him as well. So much so he actually punched Harris in the gut. "Bad form," he grunted as he fell to his knees.

"Too bad whelp," Finlay sneered. He went for his head. Harris rolled foreword to avoid the slash at his neck. Finlay tried to pound the cutlass out of his hand with the broadsword but Harris was holding on to the hilt for dear for dear life. "Do you really think somebody as young as you can beat somebody as old as I am?", he demanded and brought the sword down one more time.

Again Harris blocked it. His face wasn't showing any kind of struggle though. In fact he looked like he was enjoying this. "It's happened before," was all he said. He pushed him away then started slicing away at Finlay in the next second. Unable to get his sword up in time several long cuts decorated his upper body. As he fell to his knees Harris spun around and in one motion took his head clean off. Resting his cutlass on his shoulder again he waited until the Quickening came to him. "Rrrraaaaaaaaagggh!" arms out wide every inch of him felt like it was on fire as he absorbed the power from within Finlay. When it was over he dropped to his knees then popped back up to his feet and tried not to act a little woozy. "That's always a rush."

"Why am I not surprised," Owen said dryly.

"Are you going to have a problem with me now?", Harris said. "Fallen teacher, revenge and all that good stuff."

"We already have problems," Owen told him, again fingering the scar on his neck. "But the only problem I have today is I didn't do that years ago. We'll finish this some other time."

"If you say so." Harris returned the cutlass to it's hiding place, "He felt old."

"He was fifteen hundred years old," Susan informed him.

Harris whistled," Too bad, that could have helped you against Big Evil." Walking away with his hands behind his head he said, "Or maybe it wouldn't. Who can say but fate really?"

"Again with this Big Evil," Owen said starting to follow him. "Who in the hell is Big Evil?"

His answer was, "Ask the Sister, she was the one who told me. Oh and say hello to that little blue eyed bird for me. I might be seeing her again if the mood strikes me. She was fun the first time around."Owen turned to Susan but she was already gone.


	13. Chapter 13

He was getting sick of McAllister's games. Every time he had a job he didn't want to dirty his hands on he would call him. Like he was some fucking attack dog. One of these days he was going catch him off of holy ground. When he did he was going to take his time, draw it out as long as possible. But that was in the future, tonight Michel wanted to relax. Using the fortune he built over the years he bought an old ware house and converted a section of it into a modest looking apartment. The rest was either barren or modified to be his personal training area. With some Lacrimas Profundere playing in the back ground he held a wine glass filled with some of the purest bottled water he could find. He never drank anything that dulled his senses. Sitting back in a Victorian chair he liberated from an Immortal queen he defeated centuries ago he listened as the beats felt like they vibrated within him. The music was one of the few things he could actually stand in this time, it reminded him of some of the music he heard when he was a child.

Getting up he wondered over to one of several bookshelves along the wall. Studying the spine of each one he looked for something that fit his mood. If one were to ask McAllister about his collection he would swear on a stack of bibles he had nothing but books on how to torture a man. And truth be told he did have a sizable collection on the subject matter. But he had seen these methods first hand, if not experienced in some way. To read the words written by these so called experts… well there was a reason why he thought of it as the "comedy" section. But he wasn't in the mood for that so he moved on to a section of book that Michel was certain that if McAllister ever learned about them it would leave him stunned enough to take his head. Several books of poetry lined the selves in the next couple of cases.

He smiled to himself as he studied the titles. He never would have looked at this if it wasn't for a beauty of rare strawberry blond hair showed him there was more to this world than war and conflict. His one saving grace who almost changed him until… Shaking his head he lost the smile. Michel did not live this long remembering about the past. He did not forget it but he refused to live in it. His eyes settled on a book of poems from the eighteenth century that always pleased him so he took it and went back to his chair. Settling back into the chair he carefully handled the worn pages and started to read. His moment of tranquility was broken when he heard the rain fall on the windows.

He stopped and listened to the rain for the few moments. Rain, Michel had learned to hate the sound. Due to some cruel twist of fate all the major developments of his life happened in the rain. And very few of them were a pleasant experience or memory. Closing his eyes he remembered the day his life started on the path it did.

~1017~

He was nine years old and the sky poured down on top of him and his family. His Father was cursing their luck that day. Nothing seemed to going right for them at all. It was almost like the Gods were playing with them for their own amusement his Father had said. None of them was looking where they were going and ran into a group of drunken soldiers, an angry group of drunken soldiers. Both his father and the soldiers exchanged some angry words. Then they jumped on top of him. Taken by surprise his Father didn't stand a chance. As he watched the soldiers kick and stomp at his father something inside young Michel snapped, he rushed in and grabbed the sword off of one who wasn't watching. Swinging wildly he injured a couple of them before they were able to contain him. One was about to bring his sword down on his head when somebody grabbed his arm. "Stop this right now!" They recognized their troop leader and let go of young Michel immediately.

"This… boy attacked us," he said trying to defend their position.

"After you attacked his father!", he snapped back. "If any of you showed the pure spirit he just did maybe we wouldn't have lost that battle, or any of the others! Instead you would rather get lost in your sorrows instead of trying to get better." One of them open their mouth and he was greeted with a fist to the jaw. "You do not get to talk!", he spat. "No get out of here before I take out my frustration on the lot of you!" They quickly did as they were told leaving the troop leader with the family. "What is your name?"

"Dijkhuizen," his Father answered as he slowly got to his feet.

"Congratulation," he said, "your boy just became my new soldier. His training starts in the morning."

He walked away with Michel protesting, "I don't…"

"Quiet," his father ordered and Michel obeyed immediately. "This might be the bit of luck we need."

The soldiers came for him the next day. The troop leader didn't hold back on him because he was a boy. He trained him just as hard as the other soldiers under his command, if not harder. Several times a day Michel felt his fist every time he didn't meet expectations. At one point the other soldiers started to taunt him as well making him mess up even more. One day he was in sword practice with one the soldiers who kept on making fun of his swordsmanship, "Not so good without catching somebody from behind are you brat." He kept coming at him not giving Michel an inch or breathing room. Suddenly he cut him twice, once on the arm and on the leg.

The soldier laughed at him and the others soon joined in. Feeling the troop leaders eyes on him Michel felt his hatred grow. With a wild look in his eyes he charged the soldier. Swinging wildly he was able to drive the soldier back. So fierce was his attack he was able to knock the sword out of his hand. "Aargh!", with one swing of the sword he sliced through the man's chest, blood spurting everywhere. He fell to the ground as the troop leader and the other swarmed around them.

One of the other soldiers checked the fallen man, "He's dead." They looked at him. The dead man's blood running down his face he had the look of a wild animal being backed into a corner. The other started to draw their swords. Knowing their intent he raised his prepared to die on his feet.

"That's the look I wanted," the troop leader said as he rushed through his men. "I knew this little bastard had it in him."

"He killed…," one of them started to say before he was silenced by a backhand.

"He was a moron who left himself be beaten," he said. "It's better the bastard died here instead of showing his stupidity on the battlefield. Training for the day is over." The group started to disperse as Michel stayed his ground. "That rage you're feeling, I can show you how to harness it. How to release it at just the right time. I can show you how to make your enemies fear you."

Michel was still speechless at what he just did. He knew he should be horrified at just happened. But instead he felt a sense of power for some reason. And he liked it a lot. "How soon can we get started?"

~now~

Walking over to the window Michel watched the rain. As much as he hated it she loved it just as much. Bekah, he hadn't thought that name in several lifetimes. He became a feared warrior just like his old troop leader said he would be. On more than one occasion he had heard those he was about to kill call him a demon. A nickname that quickly stuck. More than one of his fellow warriors called him by that moniker. It got to the point those in his village, even his own family, started to fear him. He didn't care, al he wanted was the next battle.

But Bekah, she wasn't afraid. For some strange reason she saw it as her mission to tame the savage beast he had become. He should have shoved her off, ignore her. But for some reason he let himself listen to her. Oh he told himself he was just humoring her, lining her up so he could ravage her at the first possible moment. In fact he saw more than one opportunity to do just that, but he never took them. He just sat there and listened. And wondered why she was wasting her time trying to show him there more then war in this world.

~1028~

Michel and the others had come back from a successful attack on other village who wanted a treaty with them. As always he earned his nickname, leaving several bodies missing limbs and the occasional head. More than a few were cut open and left for dead. And again she was waiting for him. Several others had tried to get her attention but she didn't pay any attention to them. Every time anybody asked her why she was so fixated on him her only answer was, "I know in my heart we are meant to be."

She walked up to him and without a word led him back outside the limits of the village. "I just came this way," he snapped.

"Tell me what you see?", was all she said.

He grunted but he told her what saw, "I see a battlefield. I see ground covered in bodies and the blood still flowing from their wounds."

"Very descriptive," she said. Michel went to leave but she stopped him, "I see the sun setting and the clouds and sky colored in purple and red. I see the Gods painting a splendid picture we rarely see." He was getting tired of this and went to tell her just that. But when he did he saw the sky and for a brief moment he saw what she did. Watching him she smiled, "Now that wasn't so hard now as it?"

"Why are you making me see this?", he demanded. "Why are you so determined to change me?"

"I don't want to change you," Bekah told him. "Unlike the others I see the soul in the savage beast. I'm afraid if the soul dies the body will soon follow. And I will defy the Gods themselves before I let that happen." The silence was deafening for several moments as they stared each other. Out of the blue she said, "So is that for bauble for me?"

"What?" He looked down at his waist, there was a chain of gold hanging out of his pouch. He had forgotten he grabbed it off the original owner right before he killed him. Michel had no idea why he did it, he had never had before. Taking it out he handed it to her, "Take it if you want it, I have no use for it." She was about too when he noticed it still had the previous owner blood on it. "Wait," he looked around and saw a river. Making sure it was flowing away from the village he washed the blood off it as best as he could. Handing it back to her he said, "Nothing covered in blood should come into contact with someone as beautiful as you."

"Michel," she said a little shocked, "That was the most poetic thing I think I ever heard you say. I didn't know you had it in you." Smiling she took his arm. He was surprised when she led him back to his home.

~now~

Michel watched the rain for several minutes before turning away. Any thoughts of relaxing disappeared as he grabbed his leather coat and headed for the door. There had to be an immortal out there that was fucking stupid enough to cross his path tonight. Walking around for an hour he didn't feel anything, no immortals where around. And of course the mother fucking rain wouldn't stop. Movement behind him told him that he was being followed, that he was certain about. Given the situation it was probably somebody looking to rob him. Alright he'd play along for the moment. Right now he'd take on anybody. Turning a corner he saw a figure stop and try to make it look like she was doing some window shopping. And it was a she, there was no mistaking that profile. Well this was a first.

He waited a little further down the street. Either way he was going to relieve some type of frustration tonight. She turned the corner and stopped when she saw him. A second later a group of men grabbed her and dragged her in an alley. One of them pointed a gun at him to warn him to stay away. He grinned in a way that made the gunman falter a bit before backing away. He let them have the woman, he really wasn't in the mood any way. Michel got a good look at her face as they dragged her in and felt his heart grow cold. She looked exactly like… "No," he said as he tried to walk away, "that's not Bekah. She's dead."

~1031~

It was raining, that should have been his first hint something bad was going to happen. Michel and his soldiers ran into another force that was more than ready for them. During the battle Michel found himself without an opponent. In fact the enemy force made sure the battle stayed as far away from him as possible. "Fight me you cowards!", he shouted at them. Then he saw movement in the background. Archers took aim and fired right before he noticed them. An arrow pierced his forehead right before the others struck him. The enemy picked that moment to rush him. Several swords violated his body before his army could drive them away from him. By all rights he should have died right then and there.

But he didn't, in fact he had to endure the pain of pulling out each arrow all alone. Not sure what else to do he made his way back toward the village. Of course he should have expected the greeting he got. They had him cornered, the only thing keeping them away was the sword in his hand. Somebody came at him with a pitchfork but he quickly cut him down and dared somebody else to try their luck. Bekah made her way through the crowd and got between him and the mob. "Leave him alone!"

"Get out of the way Bekah," he said.

"Get out of the way woman!", the village elder ordered. "That isn't Michel. It's a demon taking his form."

"It is Michel," she argued. "I know this man better than any one of you. This is Michel, I know it."

"He's bewitched her!", somebody shouted. "Kill them both before they bewitch the rest of us!" The waves of agreement came fast and furious as they came closer. Michel got in front of Bekah and swung wildly at the crowd. Slowly he was able to get them closer to a way out. During it all Michel forgot the most important thing his old leader told him. Be aware of your surrounding. Some coward snuck behind and grabbed Bekah from behind. Michel turned around just in time to see the knife slit her throat. Time seemed to stop as he let her go and she fell to the ground. His heart beating again he ran in and ran his sword through him. Then he turned his attention toward Bekah. He saw the life leave her eyes as he held her.

Shaking in anger he looked at the crowd who suddenly started to back away. They looked at him like he was an beast. "You want an animal?" he said through gritted teeth. Griping the handle of his sword, the same sword the old troop leader gave him years ago, he pulled it out of the corpse as he rose, "You want a demon?" They backed up even more as he came toward them. The tip of the sword dug a grove into the ground, "I'LL GIVE YOU A DEMON!" He cut off the head of the first person he came across before any of them could react. Another lost an arm while another held the bloody stump of his leg. The carnage seemed to snap the others out of their fear and tried to swarm him again. Several more dead bodies decorated the ground before they finally made him back up. A few of the soldiers climbed on the houses and dropped on top of him, pinning him. Getting the sword away from him he held on tight as they hauled him up.

"BURN HIM!" somebody shouted and again the group agreed. They dragged him to the center of the village as other quickly gathered wood and prepared torches. Out of desperation he head butted one holding his right arm. Free from him he turned around and bit the one holding his left right deep in the neck. He screamed and tried to keep the blood from flowing. Swinging wildly he cleared himself some room to fight. Somebody came at him with a sword, his sword.

Michel caught his wrist and saw the fear in his eyes. "Keep your filthy hands off of my sword," he growled right before he broke his arm and the sword fell out of his hands and stuck in the ground. Pulling it out of the ground he started fighting for his life again. With all his soul he wanted to make this entire village pay for what they did to Bekah. But his warrior instinct told him this was a fight he could not win, the numbers were more than against him. Slaying a few more of his fellow soldiers and any stupid enough to get in his way Michel escaped the village and get on going. Bekah was lost to him forever and he had no place to call home. This world told him he was a savage beast, a demon and he would be that. But he would not let this world kill his soul, that is what Bekah would have wanted. And he would do anything to keep that from happening, just to keep her spirit happy.

~now~

The gang tore at her clothes as she screamed. Michel stood at the opening of the alley and watched. The gang noticed him and stopped. Slowly he drew his red bladed sword as they stared at him. The tip scraping the ground he slowly came toward them. He started running as the gunman from earlier drew his weapon. Before he could take aim Michel was already on top of him and cut the hand holding the gun off the arm. He dropped to his knees as Michel quickly spun around and jammed the sword into chest. Grabbing another by the throat he freed the blade and sliced deep into the man chest. He swung again in a wide arc and the sword came into contact with the man's neck. The head landed by the woman's feet and she was too frightened to scream.

Lightning started to flash in the sky as he cut off the arm of another one. Not even thinking he jammed the sword into his throat and pulled the blade out. The last one started to back away but ran into a wall as Michel stood there. In another cruel twist of fate this fucking bastard looked exactly like the coward who killed his beloved Bekah. "Wh…what are you?", he stammered

"A beast," he said. Then he started grinning manically, "A demon." He charged the gang member who was too scared to even move. He didn't even protect himself as the red blade came at him. Michel didn't stop with one cut, even though he knew it was a fatal blow. He kept swinging and slicing at the body as it died and grew colder. By the time he was done it could be hardly called a body any more. He turned toward the woman who was still on the ground. She was trembling in fear, of him. He held out a hand and she recoiled. "Bekah…", he said as he came toward her, the rain made it look like the blood was following him. Finally she screamed and ran out of there. He started to chase after her but he stopped. His still outstretched hand slowly balled up into a fist. That wasn't here, it could never be her. Punching the wall in frustration he screamed at the heavens pouring down at him.

The woman ran for a couple of blocks. Finding cover under a canopy she tried to catch her breath. After a few moments she pulled out a digital recorder and turned it on. "Watcher log, while trailing Dijkhuizen I was jumped. For some reason he saved me. I don't understand why." She was quiet for several minutes. Lowering the recorder she whispered, "How did he know my name?"


	14. Chapter 14

Growing up Keith thought that he had a couple thing figured out about life. A good chunk of your money was going to taken by the Government. Your ideal life was going to be nowhere close to your real life. You get hit by a car chances were good you were going to die. Nothing major, nothing life shattering just simple, everyday facts of life. Then he was hit by a car and fully expected to be seeing the Pearly Gates as soon as he started to feel cold and his eyes start to close. Then he woke up in a body bag. The attendant who was about to close the metal drawer he was in screamed and shit his pants before he fainted. Keith almost joined him but his first instinct was to get out of there. He found a sheet to wrap himself in and tried to sneak out. He wasn't sure how far he went but he did see an exit sign. That's when he felt whatever it was and he froze. He looked around and saw a blond haired woman stare at him. He bolted for the door as she called out to him and he ran for his life.

Sticking to the alleys he tried to figure out what was going on. Why wasn't he dead? Who could he go to? Who would believe him? Shivering in cold night air he wrapped the sheet around him as tight as he could. He froze as he felt that sensation again and grabbed his head trying to get it to stop. Keith looked up and saw a man with dark hair come toward him. "I knew you couldn't have gone far" He started to run but the guy said, "Relax kid relax. Believe it or not I know exactly what you're going through. You think you're supposed to be dead right now and you're not and it's freaking you out. Trust me I've been there." Keith stared at the guy, how in the hell did he know? He watched as he came forward a little bit and knelt down in front of him. "My name's Owen." Keith just started at him. "This is where you tell me your name."

He tried to make a name up but his brain refused to work. So he said, "Keith."

"Nice to meet you Keith." He saw him shiver under the sheet and quickly took off his jacket. Keith jumped back a bit when he handed it out to him. "Put this on before you catch your death of cold. Trust me dying isn't the worst part it's the coming back." Taking the jacket Keith put it on and felt warmer already. "The hospital isn't far we can head back there." The last place he wanted was to head back there. Owen picked up on it and said, "Or I know a church that's pretty close. The Father will give you shelter for the night. Don't worry you'll be safe there."

"How do you know?", he asked.

"Because none of us would dare do anything in a church." Keith quickly figured out that meant there were more of… whatever they were. "I better tell you that thing you're feeling right now, that's me. You felt it earlier at the hospital. That was my friend Susan, she the one who called me to help look for you. Chances are good you might feel it again from somebody else before too long."

"Why are you looking for me?"

"Because there are some of us out there who wouldn't think twice about…," he paused. He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "There's some really nasty guys out there and we wanted to find you before they did. I'll explain the rest of it after the shock wears off. All of it is too much to take in at once." Owen took him by the arm and helped him to his feet, "Come on boyo, let's get going."

"What did you call me?"

"Bo…," he looked dismayed for moment as he realized what he said. "Nothing, come on I have a car over here."

He was right the Father at the church did take him in, found him some clothes and pulled out a roll away bad out of his office so he could sleep for the night. Keith overheard the Father and Owen talk but he quickly fell asleep before he could figure out what they were saying. The next day Owen visited him again and kept his word, explaining what they were and going into the Game and the rules they had to live by. Keith listened but he couldn't wrap his head about what he was hearing. Guys were going to come after him and try to chop his head off? He would have been better off staying dead. But Owen assured him he'd do everything to prepare him for this life.

For the past four months Keith tried to pick up the sword fighting techniques but he was having a hard time getting it. Oh he was better now than what he was originally, in fact he was holding his own before Owen found a way to knock the kendo stick out of his hands. Owen was pleased with his improvements but Keith could tell he wasn't ready for his first fight yet. Owen kept training him but he wouldn't explain what a Quickening felt like, all he said he would have to experience that for himself because words couldn't even begin to describe what it felt like. But he became like a (really) older brother to Keith and did just about anything Owen asked of him.

Today however he was questioning that trust as he helped Owen carry a heavy ass couch up a flight of stairs. Normally Keith wouldn't have complained but he saw Owen was breathing heavy from the task and mumbling to himself. Both of them got the same idea and lowered the couch on the stairs to take a quick rest. Panting a bit Keith asked, "Why are we doing this again?"

"Because I'm an idiot," was all he said.

"OK that covers you but what about me?"

"The blood contract," Owen told him.

"I didn't sign any contract."

"You didn't have to," he said. "I pricked your finger while you were crashing on the Father's spare bed. It's all perfectly legal."

"You're kidding right?", Keith asked him. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Owen stop picking on the newbie," Natalya called out from a couple of flights up.

"You pick on newbies all the time," Owen informed her.

"I'm allowed," she said as she came down the stairs, "I'm mean spirited."

"Excuse me," Ser said as she came up behind them carrying a box. "This the last box Natalya, all we got left is the couch." Keith watched her walk by, trying to pretend he was admiring the link chain belt around her waist but he kept looking and Owen caught him.

"It's a skort, you're not going to see anything," he admonished him. "At least try not to be obvious about it."

"Some of us haven't had three hundred years of practice at it," Keith shot back.

"Most men learn how before they're twenty boyo." Natalya coughed to get their attention. She told them to hurry up with the couch. "Why did the freight elevator have to break down today?"

"It's been down for a couple of weeks, didn't I mention that?", she asked innocently. She ran up the stairs when Owen took a step toward her. "Hurry up now," she called back down when she got a couple of flight up. "You big strong men only have four more flights to go."

"I'm going to kill her," Owen mumbled. "Alright boyo," he said as they reached for the couch again. "Pick it up on three… three." With a small strain they picked it back up. Both Owen and Keith looked up at the distance they had to go.

"Do you think she'd noticed if we 'accidentally' dumped it over the side of the railing?", Keith said as they got moving.

"Don't temp me," Owen grunted. They finally got it in Natalya's new apartment and dropped it. She said it would look better somewhere else the moment they did. Owen shot her a look that made her say they could do it later. Owen sat on the couch to catch his breath and Keith joined him. "What was wrong with your old place again?", he said after a few moments.

"Nothing but the art store I was working at closed down," she answered. "A lot of people and customers stop showing up so it was getting boring. I swear one headless body and everybody get's their underwear in a bunch." Owen opened his mouth, "And no comments from you thank you very much."

"I'm surprised you look so tired Owen," Ser said. "Susan said she always marveled at your endurance." The way she was smiling made Natalya stare at her for a moment then at Owen. Keith watched him smirk for a bit before noticing Natalya. Suddenly he was real interested in seeing where she wanted the couch.

She kept staring at him, "You did not sleep with a nun."

"She wasn't a nun when I met her," Owen quickly said. "And it was a really cold night. Besides how do you think I learned how to…," he trailed off as he glanced at Keith and Ser. Walking over to Natalya he whispered something in her ear.

She immediately went bug eyed and pulled away from him. "We are never doing that again. Damn it I really liked that move too." Owen shrugged and took a box labeled kitchen. "Then again it's no wonder you were at least in my top five when I first meet you."

"You said I was top three," Owen protested.

"After I worked on you," Natalya informed him. "There still some room for improvement."

"Improvement my ass," Owen said as he went into the kitchen.

"If you think you're so good why are the two above you mortal?", Natalya shot back. "Chew on that."

"Slut!", rang out from the kitchen.

Looking angry for a moment Natalya shouted back, "Twenty two times and still not funny!"

Keith looked over at Ser, "Maybe we should go."

"Relax," Natalya told them, "if we were arguing you'd know it. Once that big lug gets back in here you guys can move the couch over by that window over there." Keith looked that the window she was pointed at, way on the other side of the room. He moaned in protest but the girls pretended they didn't hear him. A couple of hours later most of the heavy items were more or less in place. Owen volunteered to grab some food. "Can you go to that Chinese restaurant down town? I've been craving it all day."

"Sure, " Owen said, "You want the usual?" Natalya nodded then asked them what they wanted. Keith said he have whatever they were having.

Ser looked at her watch, "I didn't think it was this late. I got to go get ready for my shift at the hospital. Can I use your phone to call a cab?"

"My motorcycle is right downstairs," Owen said. "I'll give you a lift."

"I don't want to take you out of your way," Ser said.

"It's no problem," Owen assured her. "Besides I don't want you running into any trouble on the way home."

"You're that concern for my welfare?", Ser said as she they headed for the door.

"I'm more worried about mine. Anything happened to you and Susan will kill me," Owen said as he closed the door.

Keith picked up another boxed and was about to ask where Natalya wanted it when he saw how she was looking at him. "So it's just you and me," she said in this sultry voice. She walked up to him with her hands behind her back, "I already got the bedroom set up if you want to help me break it in properly." His heart started to race as he began to sweat. Whispering into his ear she said, "Don't worry I won't tell Owen." Keith actually squeaked right before she started laughing, "Owen would say that me being evil. I'm sorry Keith but after the way you were looking at me that first time I couldn't resist." He felt more relieved than he thought possible because he was sure Owen would kill him if he tried anything.

Trying to get his voice back to normal he said, "So how long have you and Owen been…?"

"Fuck buddies?", she teased.

"Friends," Keith quickly blurted out, "I was going to say friends"

"You make this too easy. And not as long as I would've liked," Natalya said. Looking out the window she continued, "Man I was such a piece of work back then. I don't know what I would be like now if it wasn't for that incident. I don't think I'd even be alive now if it wasn't for him and Susan setting me straight."

"You care a lot about him don't you?"

"Keith I love Owen," she told him plainly. "If he ever lost his head I'd be after the bitch or bastard who did it the moment I found out. I like to think he do the same for me." She looked back out the window, "He told me some of his history with relationships. I'm surprised he opened his heart to me after what happened to him."

"What happened?", Keith asked. "I asked him about it but he keeps changing the subject."

"It's not my place to say," Natalya quickly backtracked, "he wouldn't like me talking about it."

"I know it has something to do with losing his wife," Keith said.

"Wives," She corrected him. "Owen was married twice, once before he became an Immortal and once after. I think losing his second wife hurt him more than losing his first one did."

"Was he away somewhere?", Keith prodded a bit.

"He saw her die," Natalya said softly. "Some immortal bitch killed her and he couldn't get to her in time to stop it." Looking embarrassed she quickly said. "I said too much about it."

"Sorry," Keith said feeling embarrassed too. "So if you guys care so much for each other have you ever tried living together?"

"You ever hear of throwing a softball question?", Natalya said with a laugh. "We did try the living together thing back in the eighties actually. We lasted about eight months before we got on each others nerves so much we couldn't hide it any more. A lot of things went were going against us, outside of my Father hunting Owen down that is. Wouldn't that have been fun to explain if he caught us? But what we got now is good enough. We see each other every couple of years and catch up in various way. Then one of us leaves before we get tired of each other. It's worked out pretty well so far. Of course I've heard of Immortals being married for centuries," she started shaking her head, "I don't see how they do it."

"If you don't mind me asking but what happened?"

"Well mainly it's because we're two totally different people. I like to live the high life while Owen's a little more low key. I'm not the settling down in one place type, I have to move around every so often. Owen he can stand being in one place for years at a time. But the biggest thing was there was this whole 'there can be only one' bullshit hanging over our head. " Staring out into space she said, "I often wondered what would happen if we were the last two. Part of me thinks we just throw down our swords and be happy till the end of time." Losing the look she added, "Another part hopes we at least have a week of mind blowing sex before we finished it."

"Wait... what?"

"Keith we been drilled that there can be only one," Natalya explained. "Besides I don't know what would happen to the last two. There could be an overwhelming drive to kill each other at that point." Keith quickly changed the subject, which Natalya appeared grateful for. He found out they had more in common that he would have thought while they talked.

Owen came back with their order in hand and looked at Natalya saying, "He's still there."

"You're kidding?" She explained what they were talking about for Keith benefit. "Owen found this place in the seventies and took me there a few times. The head cook was this blind ninety year old man who looked he had one foot in the grave. Thirty years later and he still there. I'd swear he's an immortal if it wasn't for the fact there nothing coming from him."

"I've been trying to figure out if it a relative of his or some kind of act. Besides the food the next best thing to actually eating in China." Passing out the food Owen sat on the couch, then gave Keith a quick lesson on how to eat properly with chopstick since he never had eaten that way before. Owen was amazed at how fast he got the hang of it. "If we can figure out how you can take a head with a pair of those you'd be all set."

"Owen stop teasing him," Natalya told him. The three of them started talking about various things. Suddenly Natalya said something in French. Owen got this glint in his eye as he replied in what Keith was pretty sure was Japanese. Natalya leaned in with a smile and spoke back in German. Owen then said something in Spanish and Keith got excited. He knew Spanish and quickly said something to join in. Owen slapped his head into his hand while Natalya tried not to laugh. "That was a nice try Keith."

"Never do that again," Owen told him. Natalya slapped him in the arm.

"What was wrong with my Spanish?", he demanded.

"High school accent," she informed him. "Look Keith let me give you one piece of advice. If you're going to learn another language you have to learn it in that culture. You can't go by a book. You have to go there and walk off the beaten path. You got to say the wrong verb. Try a new food by accident. Take a chance and kiss a total stranger."

"That last one's just you," Owen said as he grabbed the empty food boxes. Natalya slapped him on the leg as he passed. With break time over they went back to work. After a few hours Keith saw one last box on the floor that Owen picked up. "Where does this one go?"

"I got that one," she said. "It's just small stuff any way." She looked into it and saw a smaller bow, "Damn it I was supposed to give this to Susan at the hospital."

"The one a few blocks west from here?", Keith asked. "I passed it on the way from my place I can drop it off for you"

"Thanks Keith," She handed him the box then gave him a quick peak on the cheek. "And thanks for helping me move my stuff in. And you," She turned to Owen and gave him a kiss on the lips, "you I expect to be back here in a few hours fully rested and cleaned up so we can break this in properly."

"I'll be back before you know it," he gave her a quick couple of pats on the butt before letting her go and getting Keith out the door. Studying his mentor Keith was amused at how different he looked when he was around Natalya. Without thinking he commented on it out loud. "Let me put it this way to you Keith, she's one of the best things that happened to me in long time. I don't want to think what I'd be like if it wasn't for her. If she ever died before I did I wouldn't stop until I hunted them down because the person responsible would be living on borrowed time. I told Father Andrews I met up with after we were done. I talk to you later boyo, watch your back," he patted him on the shoulder and headed off in a different direction.

Keith hurried up to make it to the hospital. He didn't mind doing this for Natalya, beside it give him a chance to talk to Serenity if she had the time. When he got there he felt the buzz and tried not to panic. Then he saw Ser talking to some guy wearing eyeliner around his eyes. She didn't look all that happy. He walked into the lobby and overheard. "You really didn't give me a choice either way."

The guy, who was apparently English, replied with, "But I noticed you didn't exactly try to get away. Just how you're not exactly walking away now."

"Is there a problem here?" Keith asked.

With a slight bow he said, "Scott Harris, a pleasure to meet you. And who might you be?"

"A friend of hers," Keith told him.

"Well then a friend of the lovely creature to my left is a friend of mine. But three is company as they say so I think I'll be the one who leaves. I'll see you around my lovely little bird." He bowed again and left the hospital.

"Who was that?" Keith asked Ser.

"Just somebody who knows Susan," she answered. "Nobody particularly important. What's with the box?"

He forgot about it in his hands. "Natalya sent this over for Susan. Do you know where she is?"

"She's in the cafeteria. I'll take you there. We can get a bite to eat too if you want."

"That'd be great," Keith told her. He walked beside her but he didn't see her look back at the doors. Harris was still standing outside. He waved goodbye, Serenity's hand started to rise up and wave in kind but she quickly stopped herself. Giving all her attention to Keith they talked all the way to the cafeteria.


	15. Chapter 15

Owen didn't agree with Finlay on a lot of things. In fact in the later years he wondered what he ever saw in the man that made him respect him in the past. But there was one philosophy of his that Owen did agree with: the more well rounded an Immortal was the better the chance he had in surviving and winning the Game. It was something he tried to pass on to every student he ever had. So Owen, especially in his younger days after Finlay made him leave Ireland, traveled the world trying to find anybody who would train him, mortal and immortal alike. To date he knew several ways to fight with a sword, incorporating what he could into his own personal style. Learning how to switch sword styles on the fly without getting himself killed. And he didn't stop there as he picked up whatever else he could. Somewhere along the line he discovered he had an almost natural aptitude toward tracking and tried learning from whoever had the time and patience.

Not to say he was good at everything he had learned. There were swords techniques he had a hard time mastering, if not picking up at all. And he admittedly was the last person to go to if you needed something particular done, like shoot something with a bow and arrow. A fact his old friend Susan seemed to be enjoying proving this particular day. She watched with an amused grin as his arrow just skimmed the bottom of the target. "Why did I let you talk me into this again?", he complained.

"Because I had Natalya with me to wear you down," Susan joked. She looked back to see her as well as Serenity and Keith trying not to laugh. "Besides I thought it would be a good way to show them show them how not to do it."

"Cute," he said as he took the guard off his arm. Susan said nothing as she took aim and nailed another one near the bull's-eye. Their audience clapped. "If you're done humiliating me can we go now?"

"Just making sure your head doesn't get too big," she told him. She glanced over to Natalya who shook her head slightly before returning her attention to the conversation she was having with the others. "So I hear Natalya found out about a particular bit of our history."

"Talk to your student," Owen told her.

"We're lucky she's seemed to have blown it off. You don't want an upset Natalya hounding you. I've seen it happen to a couple poor bastards." She looked thoughtful before smiling to herself, "Although I seem to recall that 'cold night' lasting a week."

"Just making her image of you doesn't get too tarnished," Owen said. "She thinks pretty highly of you, even after that came out." Looking at her he added, "If I never said it before I think pretty highly of you too."

"You're going to make this old woman blush," Susan said taking her arm guard off. "You two are like the younger siblings I never had. A complete and total pain in my neck." They both shared a laugh. When they got to the others Natalya led in the ribbing Owen was currently taking. The moment stopped briefly as the buzz hit them.

Finally they located the source, a Japanese man in his forties carrying a walking stick that was larger around than usual. "I didn't think it was possible that your archery skill could deteriorate even more," was all he said.

Owen started grinning immediately, "Naoto." He greeted his friend with a handshake that the other man quickly turned into a hug. "It's great to see you. What are you doing out here? You haven't left that temple in sixty years."

"All in good time Little Immortal." The others looked at Susan as Natalya mouthed those words. She held up a hand to stop it from going any further. "Are you going to introduce me to your companions? Or have your manners gone the way of your archery?"

"Of course," Owen said as he gestured toward them, "You remember Susan."

"It would be hard to forget that encounter," Susan said. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise," Naoto said as he took her hand.

"That's her student Serenity and my student Keith." They exchanged pleasantries. "And this is Natalya."

"You better be saving the best for last," Natalya told him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Naoto. There are times Owen can't shut up about the time he spent with you."

"And it's pleasure to finally meet the rather infamous Natalya. I often wondered what sort of beauty could capture his heart in such a way," He took her hand and kissed it.

"Oh I like him," she grinned.

"Down girl," Owen told her. "So what are you doing this way? How long are you planning on staying? I've been meaning to come back." He trailed off, how could he have not come back once since that last time in the fifties?

"Don't fret Little Immortal," Naoto told him. "I've have been alive long enough to know that sometimes life has a way of making us stall our promises, even if it's not intentional. Ironically enough being alive for so long is why I've sought you out. I have a request of you although I am afraid to ask."

"You know you can ask me for anything," Owen assured him. Naoto looked unsure as he looked at the others. Picking up on his discomfort Owen said, "Maybe we can talk somewhere a little more secluded."

"No," he said after thinking it over, "I can talk to you in front of the others. It's better they know now than later after you start acting differently." Owen looked on with some concern, was somebody after him? Taking a deep breath Naoto looked him in the eyes and said, "I want you to kill me."

"Something really loud must have just passed by," Owen said after a moment, "because I don't think I heard you right." Naoto said it again. Owen walked away not wanting to hear this.

Natalya on the other hand, "If this is your idea of a joke it's not fucking funny."

"It is no joke," Naoto said.

Owen turned back around with anger in his eyes. "I wanted you to take my head once, you never took it." They looked at Owen stunned, Natalya and Susan even more so. Neither of them expected that out of him. "Why should I take yours?"

"Like I told you back then I failed Himiko too," Naoto explained calmly placing a hand on his shoulder. "As for now, Owen I am over eight hundred years old and I am tired of living. I am tired of the Game. I spent the last six decades staying out of the Game trying to find that spark of life I lost along the way. I haven't found it yet, if I haven't by now I never will."

Owen opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He walked away leaving them there. "Calm him down before he does something stupid," Susan told Natalya. Susan could tell she was about to go off on Naoto. Keith and Ser still had to drag her after Owen. Alone with him she tried to keep calm herself, "Why are you asking this of him?"

"Because Owen is the only person I would ask to do this." Reaching into his coat he pulled out a piece of paper. "I am staying near this temple. Have him meet me here, no matter what decision he makes." Despite her better judgment she took the paper. "I do wish we met again under better circumstances." There was a soft clack as the end of his stick hit the ground as he walked away.

When she caught up with the others Owen's motorcycle was already gone and Natalya raised her arms in frustration. "I don't get it," Keith started to say. "So do you reach a certain age and just want to die? What's the point of staying alive and trying to win the Game if that's what going to happen?"

"That's not what happens," Natalya snapped. "This is just stupid. Susan's over twelve hundred years old and she never wanted to die."

"It happens I'm afraid," she said, feeling all of her years at the moment. "It doesn't happen often fortunately but you'll occasionally run across an Immortal who's just tired and wants it to end. I've even seen newborns who tried to take their own heads after they awaken because they can't handle what they've become."

"I guess you can't direct him to a suicide hotline or something," Serenity said.

"He's from a different time Ser," Susan explained. "Me and him both are. Sometimes it hard for us to remember that times have changed as much as they have." She looked at the paper in her hand, "I think I know where Owen went. I have a promise to keep." Natalya went with her, both of them wanted to be there for him.

Owen didn't talk to either of them, he barely listened. He did realize Natalya and Susan got into a loud discussion about what to do about this. But his mind was elsewhere. He was back there on that little island off the coast of main island of Japan trying to pick up this special strike Naoto developed.

~1764~

The sun beat down on Owen and Naoto as they spared outside of his humble house. To the side a young girl of eighteen with a scar that ran down the right side of her face and just under her chin watched them. Owen tried to readjust his grip on the wooden "sword" in his hand. He'd been here about seven months now and he still couldn't find a decent grip on this damn thing. A series of strikes knocked Owen back a bit and he quickly retaliated pushing Naoto back in time. He tried to surprise him by switching to a fencing style he picked up in France. But he quickly tripped over his own feet and fell on his face. Naoto placed the wooden sword by his neck, he lost this one. Himiko was trying to hide that she was laughing at him and failing, "Owen apparently doesn't know his right foot from his left."

"Now now Himiko, let's not make fun of our guest," Naoto told her, but he looked amused as well. "You must admit Little Immortal has improved in the time he has been here."

"I'd be improving faster if we weren't using these glorified sticks," Owen grunted as he got back to his feet.

"Perhaps," Naoto said. They took their position again. Owen struck first but Naoto was standing his ground. Then in a move too fast for him to react to the older immortal knocked his sword away and a split second later cracked him on top of the head. Owen stumbled back a couple of steps dazed before falling on his ass. "And perhaps Little Immortal if we were using the real thing I'd be absorbing your Quickening right about now." Owen said nothing as the stars slowly faded from his vision. But he did feel something wet as a trickle of blood ran down his forehead.

This time Himiko wasn't laughing, "Brother you hurt him." She quickly went to him and knelt beside him as she began wiping away the blood. Owen looked at her, she blushed a bit before smiling at him. Then he saw behind her to see Naoto looking confused but still amused.

"I'm alright Himiko," he told her as he lightly pushed her away. She glanced at Naoto understanding why he was doing so. "It's going to take a lot more than this to kill me."

"Himiko," Naoto said placing his sword on a stump, "I think our guest might be a little tired. Why don't you fix us some tea while he rests up a bit."

"Of course brother," she said and went into the house.

"Owen I want to talk to you about something while we are alone." Owen figured this was coming, they couldn't hide it forever. "I notice how you two are around each other, especially lately."

"I know it's inappropriate," Owen started to say, "with you raising her like a sister and all."

"I give you my blessing," he said with a small smile. Owen nearly fell again. "I remember seeing much sadness in you when you first arrived Little Immortal. A sadness I only saw in Himiko. You both lift that sadness from each other. Why wouldn't I want the both of you to be happy?"

"I… I'm an outsider," he stammered.

"And I am a strange little monk who raised an orphan girl most people consider damaged. I've been around long enough to know our only difference is the skin covering us. Outside of some minor philosophy issues that is."

"I can't give her children."

"I doubt she can have children" Naoto said sadly. "The attack I saved her from as a young girl was very specific. Even I doubted she would last through the night."

"I'll outlive her."

"You were going to anyway." Naoto watched him pace trying to think of another reason. "Owen do you love her?"

Owen didn't answer right away. The last time he could say he was actually in love with somebody was Deborah. He didn't feel that way about Himiko. But he had to be honest with himself, what he felt for felt like what he had with Deborah, it was just different. And as with Deborah he couldn't see his life without her. Without a doubt in his mind he told him, "Yes."

"Then why deny yourself and her years of happiness." He walked over to and put a hand on his shoulder, "I would be honored to call you my brother Owen."

"I would be honored as well."

"Come," he said as he guided him into the house, "let us see what Himiko thinks about all of this. Although I'm pretty sure what her answer is going to be she has surprised me in the past. If she agrees I'll perform the ceremony myself."

~now~

Owen pulled up to the temple and couldn't get himself to move. After a moment Natalya pulled up saying she was there for moral support. Walking into the temple Owen looked at the forest nearby knowing why he picked this place. Silently they walked through the temple and found Naoto dressed in traditional ceremonial clothing on the other side near the forest. To his surprise he saw Harris there with him. He looked over and waved as he went back to his conversation with Naoto. They both laughed as Naoto said, "He was still mad for a week after you left. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time Scott I thank you for that."

"I'm just happy to find somebody else who shares my sense of humor." Twisting around he looked Owen over, "And why are you bringing all the sunshine to this dreary day."

"I believe he's here to see me Scott," Naoto stood up and stared into Owen still angry eyes. "Have you made a decision Little Immortal?"

"I have to tell you one thing," Owen said trying to keep calm. He couldn't. "Who in the fuck do you think you are?!" Harris started to get up to defend him but Naoto motioned for him to stop. "How dare you put me in this position! I really want to tell you I hate you for putting this on me." His eyes started to water and his voice began to crack, "But I'll honor your request."

"Thank you Owen," Naoto said. "I know this was a hard decision for you." Owen picked up his walking stick as Naoto turned to Harris, "Thank you for seeing me today Scott. You definitely have a way of brightening ones day, even if it is for the last time." He looked at Owen and they both headed for the forest.

Harris looked confused but he quickly put the pieces together. "No," he said and got in front of Owen and reached into his jacket. "Not him, I won't let you do this."

"Scott," Naoto said, "let us pass. It is my final wish, please honor it."

"Why him?", he asked. "Why not me? Why not somebody else?"

"Scott you are my friend, and I will cherish that friendship dearly in this life and into the next. You are the only one who could do my special speed strike and turn it into something else. But Owen is my brother. There is no one else I would ask to do this." Harris stared at them but he stepped aside. Naoto led Owen deep into the forest and into a small clearing. Looking at the canopy above them Naoto said, "I know you think you life is one loss right after another. Your Father, Deborah, Himiko. And I apologize for adding another one to that. If it would make you feel better I could challenge you."

"You'd just leave yourself open," he said hoarsely.

"True," he agreed. "Say a prayer for Himiko on her birthday."

"I haven't missed a year yet," Owen told him.

Neither saying another word Naoto went down to his knees and held his head high. Owen gripped one end of the walking stick and pulled revealing the katana hidden inside. Standing by his side Owen slowly raised the blade up. Naoto closed his eyes, "Owen… arigato."

The blade lowered slightly as a wave of sadness almost over took him. Bringing it back up he held back the tears, "Goodbye…Senpai." He swung the sword. The forest light up as the sound of thunder and a lone man screaming filled the air. After it was over Owen cried to himself for a few minutes before getting to his feet and heading back to the temple. The moment he came out from the tree Natalya ran to him and put her arms around him. He looked over at Harris who looked dejected. Feeling the scar on his neck he let go of Natalya and walked over to him. "Are we going to have a problem now?"

"I want to say yes," he said, "but I'll honor his final wish." Twisting around on the stone bench so he was facing the other way he got up and walked away. "Besides, you might have a chance against Big Evil now. Or maybe you won't. Can't tell until it happens"

"That's it," Owen got in his way. "Who in the hell is Big Evil? I asked Susan like you said, all she gave was a name, Dijkhuizen, and not much else. Now who in the hell is this guy?"

Harris started to smile, "The stuff Immortal nightmares are made of my friend. A man who won't think twice about taking a immortal's head while they're indisposed. A man who will awaken a new immortal just so he can take their Quickening right after. The very man your Uncle set after you." Putting his hands behind his head he walked round Owen and continued on his way without a care in the world. "I was kind of worried before, but now it looks like the entertainment won't be ending that quickly after all. That's good for me, not so good for you. Depends on how it goes really. Now if you will excuse me I have to find some soft comfort, I did just lose a friend after all."

Owen watched him leave, even more confused than ever. Again with this supposed "Uncle" of his? He wasn't sure what type of game Harris was playing but he was getting tired of it.


	16. Chapter 16

Sitting at a table in a local bar Rob lightly rubbed the Watcher tattoo on the inside of his right wrist. He never regretted joining the Watchers, however he was questioning the current group he was with. Ever since he discovered the man who recruited him turn out to be an Immortal himself. And he stood by and did nothing as their "friends" executed him. His silent thoughts were broken by the realization that somebody joined him at the table. The first thing he saw was some Egyptian style eyeliner and subconsciously tried to hide his tattoo. He was looking at the man he was assigned to watch. "Pardon me friend," he said pleasantly, "but I noticed you were sitting here deep in troubling thought. Seeing how I lost a friend today I hope you don't mind if I joined you. Misery loves company as they say. Although why anybody would want to be around anybody who is miserable never made sense to me. But my manners are atrocious, please forgive me. My name is Scott Harris."

Unsure of what else to say he stammered, "Rob… Rob Wong."

"Well Rob Rob Wong," he repeated with a humorous tone, "I hope you don't mind the intrusion. What is troubling you, if I may be so bold?"

Rob was a little wary. He'd read the file on Harris before actually getting started on the job. He knew the types of games he liked to play. He didn't want to give this Immortal any ammunition to be used against him in the future. But he had to tell somebody, what he was feeling was twisting his insides into knots. Maybe if he choose his words carefully, "I have these… associates that I thought had a good idea. Now I'm wondering if they were right after all and I can't see a way out of it."

"Ah," he said in understanding, "That is a tricky one. Am I correct in assuming these associates of yours are extremely good at hunting people down?"

Trying not to wince at his choice of words Rob replied with a, "You could say that."

"You do indeed have a problem," Harris said. Grabbing a passing waiter's attention he quickly ordered two beers. "It's on me and you do look like you could use more than one drink," he gestured toward the barely half empty glass in front of him. "It's a pity you can't be like me and follow where the wind takes you."

Again he tried to suppress a reaction. He never knew what they meant when they told him that they hoped his passport was up to date until after he started following him. Rob didn't think it was possible to see that much of the world that fast. "Well some of us are a little more tied down than others."

"I was once too," Harris said, "until I was born again. Oh not in the Christian holier than thou sort of way. That would be tedious, and quite honestly rather boring. But my rebirth did start with a bit of a bang."

~1918~

Scott thought it was over right then and there. In a severe case of wrong place wrong time a German bomb landed right close to him and exploded as he turned to run. He felt the force of the blast before hearing the deafening bang. He didn't even have time to pray for anything and was positive the next thing he was going to feel was the hellfire and brimstone the Sister was always warning him about in the orphanage. The he woke up. Outside of his clothes being in tatters he was perfectly fine. What was going on? Stumbling to his feet he quickly got away from there before somebody noticed him. He wasn't aware he walked into a cemetery when he felt this strange sensation that made him grab his head. "Why do the newborns always do that?", a voice with a slight Scottish accent said with some disdain. Scott looked around and saw an older man in his fifties look on in disgust. "I guess we better get this out of the way. My name is Malcolm McAllister."

After a few moments he was able to answer, "Scott Harris."

"Where are you going? Answer me boy I don't have all day."

"Here there and everywhere," Scott answered.

"Ah you're a vagrant," Malcolm said while walking away.

"I am not," Scott said following. "I'm a wonderer. A free spirit not tied down to anything."

"Like I said a vagrant," he said. Turning around to look at him one more time Malcolm seemed to study him. There were very few people whose gaze made Scott want to squirm. This was very, very close. "You better come on before somebody else finds you. I swear all these years alive is starting to make me go soft."

"What do you mean?"

Malcolm started to answer then something caught his eyes and made him duck behind some bushes. Scott was about to ask what he saw when he when Malcolm grabbed him by the arm and pulled him under cover. "Silence boy," he whispered. "That is what I am talking about."

Scott looked through the bushes to where he was pointing. A man with long black hair and wearing dark clothes walked the body lined street. Both of them watched, Scott with fascination and Malcolm with some dread as he examined each body. Then he smiled and reached into his coat. Scott heart started beating faster as he pulled out a sword with a red blade. He could do nothing as he reached down and picked up one poor bastard who was laying face down by the hair. With one swing he took his head clean off. Scott felt his legs go rubber at the sight. Then he saw the lightning come from the body being absorbed by the person in black. At best he mustered a weak, "Big Evil."

"What?", Malcolm asked confused.

"Big Evil," he started to say louder until Malcolm shushed him and clamped a hand over his mouth.

"He hasn't sensed us yet. Let's keep it that way boy. No what is this big evil nonsense."

"This nun at the orphanage I grew up in warned me about him when she caught me misbehaving and nothing else would work. She used to tell me about a man dressed in black that would come after you when you were naughty. A man with a sword made of blood who will cut off your head and take your soul. An evil so big you wouldn't see him coming until it was too late."

Malcolm chuckled at the story, "Obviously this nun knew what you were. That man is called Dijkhuizen, and there is a reason why I only deal with him on holy ground. But I definitely try to avoid any unnecessary contact with him. He's been after my head for a long time."

"What did you do?"

Malcolm smacked him in the head, "Don't let a made up fairytale rule your life boy. Wait here and keep your mouth shut, unless he comes in this direction he won't notice us." Scott was never so quiet in his life.

~now~

Rob just sat there listening. It took him a while to realize Harris just told him how he became an immortal, but found a way to say it that didn't even imply his history or what he was. It could have happened last month the way he told it. He was stunned but he managed to play along and say, "I don't remember hearing about any explosion recently."

"It was outside the country," he answered. "No offence my friend but you Americans rarely seem interested in the things that happen outside your borders."

"Actually I'm Canadian," Rob informed him.

"My apologies for assuming," he said. He quickly bought another round. "A small penance for such a mistake. It's real hard not to assume things," he said looking deep in thought. "Like that Sister who helped raise me in the orphanage. I would have thought I knew exactly who she was. Don't get me wrong my friend, I adore the woman to death. Most of the nuns gave up on me as a lost cause. They didn't say it out loud but I could see it in their eye, but not her. I thought she was a saint. Then I realized me and here had more in common than I originally thought. And she knew it the entire time."

~1940~

Scott sat on a boulder in the cold night. He didn't mind the cold, after he left the orphanage he spent many a night without a proper roof over his head. It was a lifestyle he never grew out of. Besides why tie yourself down in one place when there was a whole world to see? He felt the presence of another Immortal and quickly took out his sword. An old pirate cutlass he recently acquired, he wouldn't have bothered taking it from that decent old man he met in the last town he was in but the jewels covering hilt just grabbed his attention and wouldn't let him go. He found a blond haired woman looking around as well, one he recognized all too well. "Sister, how very good to see you again."

"Scott?", Susan said coming closer to get a good look at him. He noticed she was keeping an eye on his sword, and that her right hand wasn't visible. More than likely gripping her own sword. "So is this how it's going to happen?"

He thought it over for a moment before saying, "It wouldn't be much of a reunion if one of us ended up dead now would it?" returning to the boulder he went back to watching the area he was studying before she showed up. "Besides I wouldn't want to miss out on finding out who the winner was."

"What winner?", she asked. Then they both saw and felt it, a Quickening. Scott leaned in as he waited intently. Soon somebody walked into view and looked around before heading off.

"I'm surprised it was him," he said while scratching his chin. "I was positive the other one would have won."

"Scott what are you talking about?"

"Those two had a small issue with each other," he said nonchalantly. "I happened to over hear it. So I just pushed a few things and made this happen. I'm really quite amazed at the results."

"You caused them to fight?" Susan took him by the arm and made him face her. Scott resisted an urge to squirm he hadn't felt in over thirty years. "Scott this is a very dangerous game you're playing. I want you to promise me that you'll never do anything like that again."

"I wish I could Sister," he said getting free from her grasp." But if I did I would be lying to you and I cannot do that." Walking away with his hands behind his head he continued, "It's not the first time I did such a thing. I find it makes life so much more…," he searched for the right word, "interesting."

~now~

"You make people fight each other?", Rob said still playing along. Although he didn't remember reading about that particular meeting in Harris's file. Then again Watcher files from back then were often lost in boxes in attics or destroyed forever somehow. With no good way of keeping each other up to date it was no wonder there were so many false reports of the Gathering happening, it was easy to lose track of thing. Not like they are now.

"Of course not," Scott said. "I just discover or happen overhear about a problem some people are having. And I do my best to get them together. If they just happen to result to violence, well that was how it was meant to be. Or maybe not, it's hard to say really." His expression was hard to crack. What was going through that head of his? "It is extremely hard to find others who share my love of life," he stated changing subjects. "There are times I think I am alone in how I see the world. Then I met a person like my recently departed friend. Oh he wasn't exactly like me of course."

"I get the feeling you could only hang around somebody who was just like you," Rob commented.

"Well that would just be boring," he stated simply. "I don't think I could get along with me at all. Which is strange because I think I'm absolutely fascinating."

"So what was so special about your friend?

A sad smile gracing his lips he said, "We had a similar sense of humor."

~1982~

With the wind carrying the salty sea air Scott and Naoto faced each other, kendo sticks in hand. Without warning Naoto struck first coming in fast. Scott blocked and waited, he knew it was going to come eventually. He saw the older immortal lips tighten a bit as he continued to parry his strikes. Then he saw him set up for it. Scott blocked his special speed strike on his first attempt. Then he came at him hard, his wooden blade going faster and faster until Naoto had to back up from the assault. Then Naoto did something new that broke through his attack and cracked the stick on top of his head. It caused him to see stars and fall straight on his ass. Resting the kendo stick on his shoulders he smirked, "Very good Scott. I didn't think it was possible it was possible to do that more than once. Not to mention I didn't think it was possible for anybody to move that fast."

"My reflexes have always been faster than anybody else," Scott told after his vision cleared, "especially after the bomb. People say I could steal the badge off of an officer with him looking right at me. I did actually, one lazy Brazilian afternoon"

"That's not something to be proud of Scott."

Popping back on his feet his response was, "Maybe it is maybe it isn't, who can say. I delivered it back to the station that same night all tied up in a neat little bow. No harm no foul. Of course I'm not really sure what the penalties of that sort of thing are. I never stayed around in one place long enough to find out or care."

"I imagine you'll be leaving soon," Naoto commented while taking the kendo stick back.

"Either tonight or in the morning. Depends on when the wind decides to take me really." Looking over the man he considered a friend, he asked, "You can do it too you know. Get out of this temple and dust yourself off. Before Inoki decided to get even for the whoopee cushion incident."

Naoto laughed at the memory of the recent incident, "I have never seen one man get so embarrassed in my life or hear the dining hall get so quiet. Outside of the two of us snickering before busting out laughing. I would like to see the world again," he said after a moment. "But I'm still trying to find something I lost inside me. Besides traveling like that is for the young, not for those who are old and are feigning being responsible. Do try and come this way again in the future Scott. I do enjoy our conversations."

"If the wind sends me this way you'll see me again", Scott assured him. "Now if you will excuse me I suddenly have a taste for some seafood."

~now~

Again another meeting he didn't have any knowledge of. But Harris did spend a couple of weeks in Japan, and he did seem genuinely upset when that Naoto person let the younger McAllister kill him. So it was possible that was true. But he was still amazed Harris was able to tell that story and not give a time frame for it. Rob was about to inquire further when he noticed Harris had this strange look in his eyes and immediately turned toward the door. Two young people stopped in the entrance way and peered around. He recognized the woman almost immediately, Serenity Sheldon. Harris had an encounter with her a short time back. Smiling a bit Harris turned back toward him, "If you will excuse me friend I must part ways. All night I was looking for a little soft comfort to help lighten the loss of my friend. Imagine my surprise when she walked right in the door."

Fearing this would go south in a hurry Rob continued to play along, hoping this wouldn't count as interferance, "So how much of what you told me was true?"

Spreading his hands out wide Harris simply said, "My friend it was all true."

"Even the lies?"

With a mysterious glint in his eyes and a mischievous smile he answered, "Especially the lies. It makes life so much more interesting." Before he could say another word he left the table and headed for other Immortals. Rob quickly called for the bill before getting set to follow him. He suddenly realized the other man was McAllister's current student. This could go bad in a real hurry.

"What are you doing here?", Keith asked. Serenity didn't looked pleased to see him either but she wasn't backing away from him either.

"I just come to say hello to the lovely lady." He took her hand and started to kiss it. Keith slapped his hand away. Serenity started to chastise him for doing that while Harris rubbed his hand. "My friend I don't think that was your call to make."

"I'm not your friend," Keith told him. "And she told me what you did to her."

"Keith just drop it," Serenity told him. "He's not worth it."

Looking pleased Harris said, "It must have not been that terrible of an experience otherwise she would have tried to take my head by now. And apparently bragging about it as well."

"That's it you and me outside," Keith said and walked out the door.

"Keith don't be stupid," Serenity said. Stuffing his hands in his pockets Harris followed him out. "Wait Scott he doesn't…," she started to say. "Don't do this."

A small crowd followed them out as Rob tried to get into a good position. Keith didn't wait for him when he threw a punch. Hands still in his pockets Harris dodged everything that was thrown at him. Rob had a little experience fighting but even he could tell Keith was overmatched here. Serenity said nothing but looked on in slight disgust at the display. Keith put everything he had in one punch and again Harris moved. Keith fought to keep his balance. Finally taking a hand out of his pocked Harris tapped him sharply in the back of the head. It was enough to send Keith to the sidewalk. He went to get back up as Harris opened his coat. Both Rob and Serenity saw the jewel encrusted hilt inside. Keith got the message and stayed down. Harris looked in his and Serenity's direction and simply waved before walking off. Serenity quickly followed him with Rob close behind. "What was all that about?" she demanded.

"Nothing major as you would put it," Harris. "He wanted a fight and I gave him one simple as that."

"He challenged you."

"And he wasn't armed," Harris told her, "unlike yourself. Don't look so surprised, I'm sure the Sister told if you live long enough you can tell who's armed and who isn't. And quite honestly where is the sport in that. Besides his death looks like would upset you and I can not allow that to happen." This time he took her hand and with no interference kissed it. "Until we meet again and under less hostile circumstances." Serenity just stood there and watched him leave with his hands behind his head. Rob watched her look at him for a long time before finally turning around and checking on Keith. Rob was certain of one thing, tailing Scott Harris was never boring. Now if he could just figure out who he pissed off to get this assignment.


	17. Chapter 17

Nobody thinks going to the store is going to change your life. But that's what happened to Serenity. She walked in at the same time the place was being robbed. One of the gunmen was jumpy and shot her as soon as she stepped through the door. Everything after that was one big blur and the last thing she remembered was people standing over her. Then she woke up seeing a blond haired woman hovering over her smiling. "Am I dead?", she asked weakly she tried to ignore this sensation that was making her ill.

"You were," she said. "I'll explain everything in good time. Although I must say though you're a little calmer than most people are once they awaken. I tried to kill the person the first person I saw when I did."

"I don't understand," she said getting up. Taking in a sharp breath she realized where she was, a morgue. "Oh my God what's going on?! What the fuck are you going to do to me?! Shit you were trying to harvest my organs weren't you?!"

"Calm down," she said softly. "I should have known that was coming. Although the organ harvest is a new one on me," she added with a slight chuckle. "By the way my name's Susan. It's nice to meet you Serenity."

"How do you know my name?" Susan didn't say anything as she handed her wallet. "How did you get this?"

"The paramedics handed it to the nurses at the ER when they brought you in." Looking sad she sat next to her. It wasn't possible but Serenity thought she suddenly looked much older, especially in the eyes. "The surgeons tried to save you but you were fading too fast. I'm sorry we couldn't save you."

"But I'm here right now," her brow creased as she was suddenly very confused, "aren't I?", she gave in to a urge to look back at the gurney she was on. For some reason she was positive she was a ghost and was going to see her body laying there behind her. There was nothing there. "I'm alive so why are you sorry?"

"I was hoping you'd be spared from the life you just entered." Susan gave her a hospital gown to wear then guided her to an empty room so she could clean up a bit and get a proper night sleep. She explained what life she just entered in detail that morning. To say Serenity wanted to freak out would have been the understatement of the millennium. But she always prided herself on being a very level headed person so she took everything in stride. Being just out of training to be a nurse Susan was able to pull some strings and get her assigned at the hospital she worked at. It was a good thing too because Serenity ended up learning a lot more from Susan than she ever did at school.

Then there was the other side of her education, such as learning how to use a sword. It was a bit awkward at first but she quickly got the hang of the basics. After that she quickly excelled. So much in fact Susan arrived in their training place one day carrying long leather case. "I've been watching your form. While you're good with a rapier something tells me this would be more your speed." Setting the case down she revealed what was inside. It looked like a katana to her but slight smaller, "It's called a wakizashi, you could say it's the brethren of the katana."

Serenity picked it and tested it. She was impressed at how good it felt in her hands. "I think I can get used to using this."

"Sometimes it's just as important to find the right sword as it is to learn how to use one," Susan told her with a smile. "You're life literally depends on it. Take care of it and it will take care of you." It sounded a little hokey but the woman said she was over twelve hundred years old, so it was possible she knew what she was talking about. Over the next few months Serenity eventually met two people Susan always talked about, Natalya Heidienrich and Owen McAllister. She also ended up "meeting" somebody else she knew, one Scott Harris. That was not a hello she wanted to repeat with anybody, ever. But a much a as she found him irritating she found herself… Serenity quickly tried to forget about him, going so far as striking up a friendship with Owen's student Keith.

Which made today particularly interesting because she was practicing her sword fighting against him today. Susan said something about it the other day, her and Owen were talking and thought it be a good idea for them to practice against somebody else for a change. Just so they wouldn't get used to fighting against a particular style. Apparently it was an easy trap to fall into from the way they talked about it. Although Susan said she'd join them later since she couldn't get away from work as easily as she could Natalya joined them. Keith from the start looked unsure of himself, but as things went better as he became more confident. They both called for a break as Father Andrews came down to the basement. He looked on in wonder past them. They looked where he was, knowing Natalya and Keith decided to practice a bit to. All she could say was "Wow."

They were moving and swinging their kendo sticks so fast and so precisely it almost looked like a dance. Both of the younger immortals realized they were watching two people who were so familiar each other it was like they almost knew what the other one was going to do. "Do you think we'd ever be that good?", Keith leaned in and asked her. All she could do was shrugged because she doubted she could be that good. They backed up momentarily, Natalya waved him on with a big grin as Owen twirled the sword in his hand before they went at each other again. It was amazing to watch and while she wasn't sure about Keith but Serenity was absorbing all she could.

Natalya suddenly went low and way able to trip Owen up. He fell to the ground but quickly turned around to block her next strike. She was able to surprise him again by stabbing down, right at his nuts. The stick missed by an inch but he still scooted back and cried out, "Hey!"

Keeping the kendo stick were it was Natalya smiled sweetly as she tilted her head and gave him an innocent sounding "Oops."

"You're going to get it now brat," Owen rolled backwards and to his feet as he went at her again. Natalya tried going low again. Owen saw it coming and jumped over it. She came back around this time high. Owen saw that coming too and rolled under it. Getting to a knee he quickly swung his stick back.

There a loud crack as Natalya lurched forward holding her ass, "OW!" She turned around and gave him a furious look. If it could she would have incinerated him on the spot.

Most men would have started looking worried, or at least try to apologizes. Instead Owen looked calm as he tilted his head and mocked her with an "Oops" of his own.

"Now you did it," she grunted as she started attacking him with the stick. Owen didn't even try to laugh as he tried to block everything that was coming at him.

Again they fell into an easy rhythm as the other watched. They kept going at each other for several minutes. After awhile the Father commented, "If they keep this up they're going to drop from exhaustion."

"We'll be lucky of their clothes stay on at that point," Keith said. Serenity didn't comment, but from what she heard from Susan and what she'd personally seen. Yeah she wouldn't doubt it either.

When they finally got them to stop they traded partners. Owen paired up with Keith to see what he was able to pick up while Natalya trained with her. She ended the session early so she could watch Keith and Owen. Keith was looking even more confident this time around as he was able to keep up with his teacher. Owen stepped back and rested the kendo stick on his shoulder looking very pleased, "You're finally getting it boyo."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Keith said beaming from ear to ear.

Owen bowed before bring the stick back up to attack position. Keith mimicked the gesture and they went at it again. After a bit Natalya lean in and said, "I noticed you and Keith have been spending time together. Is anything happening there?"

"Nothing's happening in that way," she answered," we're just friends. Besides he's not really my type."

"Really now?", Natalya went. "So what is your type?" She didn't immediately answer. For some reason she started thinking about Harris again. Shaking her head slightly and hoping Natalya didn't notice she said she wasn't sure. "Well you never know. Look at me and Owen. Do you think we thought we were each other's type when we first met?"

"Probably not," she admitted. Then she grinned thinking of something Susan told her. "Of course if Keith every dropped by my place and stripped naked I think I would chop off his head. And I don't mean the one on his shoulders." Realizing that was a shot at her Natalya slapped her on the arm.

"Susan really has to learn to keep her mouth shut," she said. Looking at the clock when the men stopped sparring she said. "Speaking of shouldn't Susan have gotten here by now? Her shift ended almost an hour ago."

"Could be they had an emergency at the hospital," Serenity suggested. She checked her beeper in case she got a page and didn't hear it.

"Could be she had a harder time getting those pig spines than she thought," Owen said

"Pig spines?", Keith asked starting to look a little green.

"Yeah that was my idea," Natalya spoke up. "I suggested it might be a good idea to get you guys used to chopping through a neck."

"Well I did hear that a pig's spin is the closest thing you're going to be able to get to a human," Serenity said, although she was feeling a little queasy as well.

"Did you have you guys have to do that when you where starting out?", Keith asked them.

"It was a different time boyo," Owen explained. "That was the punishment for a capital crime most of the time back then. We were used to seeing it. I'll admit I was a little sick the first time I took a head but it's part of who we are unfortunately."

"I know it's a part I could do without," Natalya commented as the Father came down the stairs holding an envelope.

"Owen I just found this in the church, it's addressed to you." Owen took it with a quizzical look and opened it. That look quickly went to one of annoyance as he read it.

Looking up at Natalya he said, "Harris again. He wants to met up at a cemetery a couple of blocks from here. You guys keep going, I'll go see what he wants."

"I'm going with you," Natalya told him, and from the sound of things she wasn't hearing any arguments about it, "I don't trust him." Owen nodded and they headed up the stairs. As soon as they were alone Serenity and Keith looked at each other.

"Are you staying?", she asked.

"Are you?", he shot back.

"Let's go." Shooting past the Father they quickly went after them. Keeping Owen and Natalya in sight they were able to follow them easily. Although a couple of times one of them got a little too close and had to disappear quickly when the older Immortals felt them. Entering the cemetery they were able to hide as they kept following. Keith was able to find a good spot to spy on them as they approached Scott who was sitting on top of tombstone.

Hopping off he waved a bit before saying, "For somebody who wanted to see me I thought you'd be more punctual."

Looking confused Owen slowly said, "You wanted to talk to me."

Caught off guard Scott went, "Really now? I was wondering how you knew how to contact me." Starting to walk around he looked a bit upset about something. "Apparently the game has been changed behind my back again. Bad form, extremely bad form." Serenity noticed the newcomer coming in the opposite direction before the trio sensed him. He was an older man, wearing a kilt and had his hair in a ponytail. "Have you met your Uncle?", Scott asked Owen. He just stared at the newcomer. It was like looking at an older version of Owen in a way.

"Really Scott," he said as he came closer, "Did you really think I wouldn't find out about you and my half Irish of a bastard nephew?"

"It makes thing more interesting if he knows what's coming, don't you think Malcolm?", Scott responded.

"I know you," Natalya said studying him. Owen looked at her. "It was only for a few moments. My Father spent more time with him than I did."

"Yes I recall that event," Malcolm said. "You spent a good chunk of the evening draping you attention on some young prince or something. You ignored me completely. If you had any class I might have felt offended"

"I think I've had enough 'interesting' for one day," Owen said cutting her off response. "I'm out of here."

"You might want to rethink that," Malcolm told. Looking behind his shoulder he simply said, "Michel." From behind a bush a man with dark hair, wearing a black leather trench coat, clothing and spiked gloves pulled a woman who was bound and gagged into view. He forced her to her knees and drew a sword with a red blade that he held at her neck.

"Susan," Serenity said. Keith stopped her from heading out there. Then he motioned that they should go in another direction. She agreed but still kept an ear on their conversation.

"You shouldn't have involved the Sister!", Scott lost his temper and grabbed Malcolm by the coat.

"Careful Scott, if Michel thinks you're going to harm me then something might happen to her." He let go but both him and Owen was seething at the situation. "So," Malcolm said getting a good look at him, "so you are my nephew. I must say you are the spitting image of my brother. You're probably just like him too," he said disdainfully. He searched Owen, who didn't dare move, and found his long sword. "Interesting," he commented and he studied the sword, especially the handle. "And handle and a half, I do believe they call this the bastard version. How appropriate," he said with a wicked grin

"What the hell do you want?", Owen snapped.

"Just to meet you my boy," he answered, "see what kind of bastard William raised. I just needed the right bait. I wanted this harlot here but you were staying on holy ground all day doing only God knows what. So I went with the next best thing."

"Fine we've met now just let her go," Owen said.

"And let go of my only bargaining chip?" Malcolm said looking shocked. "Do you think I'm mad or something? You are just like your father. Now I see I have to put you in your place. Now before I give Michel the word, and I assure you they are not on holy ground, I suggest you do as I say." Looking smug he said, "Tell me you Mother was an Irish whore." Owen's jaw tightened, but he started to say it.

Getting closer to Susan Serenity could hear, "Talk, talk, talk that's all McAllister dies. And I'm getting bored. Which is bad news for you I'm afraid." Susan closed her eyes as he pulled the sword away and raised it to strike. Both of them ran out of hiding. Keith bowled him over while she grabbed Susan and headed for the cemetery. Michel quickly got up and knocked Keith into them. Keith scrambled to his feet only pausing to look at her, or more accurately her coat. He reached in and grabbed her wakizashi before she could stop him. He got between them and faced him, sword shaking in his hands. Michel looked amused, "Are you challenging me boy?" Keith said nothing but somehow managed to nod his head. "This should be good."

Serenity was able to get Susan back up and guided her to the cemetery. Owen and Natalya rushed over as soon as they could and helped her. Keith and Michel started clashing swords and Owen went to get involved. Serenity got her gag off and Susan shouted, "Owen stop! He challenged him." Owen did stop but he started shaking his head. Natalya held on to him as they watched the fight. Keith waited patiently as he could at the moment, attacking where he could and blocking, a lot. Michel looked like he was playing with him. Finally Keith stepped back causing Michel to lose balance as he swung hard. Keith practically jumped on him swinging the wakizashi as hard as he could. Michel was on the defense suddenly he swung wildly, slashing Keith in the chest. He grabbed his chest as Michel grabbed him by the hair and slammed Keith's face into his knee. He dropped the sword and went to his knees. Michel held on to his head. Getting a sick menacing grin he swung his sword. Owen's knees gave out from under him as Keith's body dropped to the ground and Michel let go of his head.

"Keith!" Natalya shouted.

He grinned at them as he starting absorbing Keith's Quickening. Serenity starting crying, not realizing Harris grabbed her and held on to her. On all fours Owen slowly looked up at Michel after it was over and he stepped forward. Smirking at them he saw the look in Owen's eyes. "Holy ground McAllister," he taunted. Owen got to his feet and charged him. Grabbing Michel around the waist he lifted him off his feet and took him off holy ground before slamming him to the ground, "Oof". Owen started pounding on him as a rage over took him. Michel was finally able to get him off of him and reached for his sword. Serenity remembered too late that his uncle still had his as Michel grabbed his sword and sliced Owen in the leg. He punched him once in the face then kicked him to the ground. Michel held him down and raised his sword ready for a final strike.

"NO!!!", Natalya shouted as Susan tried to hold her back.

Michel stayed in that position for a moment longer than necessary. Glancing up he saw Malcolm make his way toward them. Slowly he turned the sword around until the point was directed at Owen's face. "I'm going to do something I rarely do this one time and let you live for two reasons. One, you're not the McAllister I really want. And two, I wouldn't put it past him to try and take my head while I was recovering from a second Quickening. So consider yourself fortunate." Then he jammed the sword into Owen's chest, right into his heart. Twisting the blade a bit he left it there until Owen died. Grinning at Malcolm he walked away from the situation.

"If you want something done right," Malcolm muttered as he plunged the long sword into the ground and drew the Claymore out of it's hiding place. Before Natalya or Susan could stop him Harris let her go. In the next moment Malcolm stopped in his tracks when Scott held his cutlass at his neck.

"Not like this," was the only thing Scott said. There was a threat in his voice Serenity didn't think could be there. Natalya ran toward Owen prone form the moment she had the chance. She drew her katana and stood in front of him.

"It's not worth the effort," Malcolm said before backing up. He walked away. Scott looked at Susan for a moment before turning away and leaving. Natalya immediately turned to Owen, stroking his cheek and waited for him to come back. Serenity just stood there feeling cold. Keith was dead, and she saw it happen. Her world just turned upside down. She just saw what fate could be in her future and lost a friend in the process. Now she knew what Susan meant when she first met her.


	18. Chapter 18

It seemed wrong for the sun to be shining so brightly on day such as this. In a special section of the cemetery the grey slab they were huddled around simply said "Keith Matthews 1985-2008". Right below it was a small simple line, "A friend that will be missed". You would think after twelve hundred years you would get used to seeing death, Susan never did. It was probably a good thing in a way, a friend of hers once told her if you stopped feeling you might as well be dead. She had seen some who did and even she had to question their humanity at times. She turned her attention away from the grave and to Father Andrews who was conducting the service. Susan then glanced over to rest of the small group gathered around it. Ser was silently crying. Natalya was holding on to Owen trying to comfort him. And Owen, now there she was actually worried, he looked devoid of all emotion as he just stood there. In fact this was the first time any of them had seen him since it happened. He was avoiding all of them.

"Amen," the Father finished and began wiping a tear from his check. They all said amen as well, but still keeping her eyes on Owen it looked like he was just going through the motions. He reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt only to drop it on the dark colored coffin. "I'm going to miss you my boy," the Father said while Owen walked away from them. "You were taken far too soon."

"He had a few extra months he wouldn't have had originally," Susan said. "If he wasn't one of us I mean."

"Does thinking that help?", he asked.

"No," she admitted sadly. "Not in the least. It's a trick to try to ease the pain, but it never does."

"It must be hard, continuously losing people you know and care about." They walked away as cemetery keepers came in and started filling up the hole. "I must be honest there are times I wonder why you take up friendships at all knowing what's going to happen."

"Because it would a very lonely existence if we didn't." He only nodded. There were times when Susan didn't feel as alive as other thought of her. This was one of them, times like these she felt very, very small. "And more than likely we would be driven mad from the loneliness. Just like anybody else."

"Owen are you going to be all right?", Natalya asked him. She went to put her arms around him but he pulled away from her. "Owen don't shut me out. I know you're hurting."

"Why don't you just leave?", he said. Natalya looked stunned but Susan closed her eyes. Again he was emotionless.

"Owen…," she began.

"That's what you do best right?", he continued as he turned around. "Use me to your heart's content and leave after you're done." All of them were taken back by his words. "Well you got what you wanted out of me. So what are you waiting for? Just get out of my life already!"

His head snapped to the side as Natalya slapped him. Grabbing his face she made him look at her. Holding back the tears she angrily told him, "I am not done with you Owen McAllister. Don't you ever forget that." Letting him go with a slight shove she stormed away. The Father was speechless but it looked liked Serenity had a few choice words for him. Susan stopped her and after a moment, after not being able to look at any of them, he left.

"Who in the hell does he think he is?" Serenity demanded.

"Ser look at him," Susan told her. He didn't go far before stopping and putting a hand to his mouth and closed his eyes. A moment later he walked off again, not even bothering to look back. "He's tearing himself up inside."

"So? He better start realizing he was acting like a jackass," Ser said. Susan couldn't fault her for feeling this angry. She had a few choice words in mind for him, but now wasn't the time. "He'd be damn lucky if Natalya took him back after that."

"Oh I agree with you there Serenity," the Father said. "But I have known him for a few decades now. Susan even longer than that. We both know what he trying to do. Even if neither of us agrees with the way he's going about it."

"He's trying to protect us," Susan clarified for her. "Any immortal worst nightmare is having somebody they care about being used against them in some way. And right now he thinks that the only way to protect us is to drive us away. But that's the pain thinking for him." And she sadly realized there was something else, but she kept that to herself for the moment.

"So what do we do?", Ser asked.

"For right now we do nothing," Susan said. "We let those emotions run their course and pray he doesn't lose in head in the process, figuratively and literally." She looked back to the grave as Ser and the Father kept going. She thought she saw Scott for a brief moment but whoever it was left before she could be sure.

Like with all things life went on despite how you were feeling. Susan and Ser went back on duty at the hospital. Ser was quieter than usual, not that she could blame her. Of course today death seemed to keep on coming. She was with a family who was standing around and elderly Grandfather. Ser put the sheet over his head as she walked them out the door. "I know it doesn't help, but he went peacefully. He wasn't in any pain at all." They thanked her for doing all they could, his daughter gave her a hug before leaving. Susan walked back into the room and found Ser staring at the sheet. "Sometimes I envy them," she said as she stood next to her student.

"I don't understand," Ser said looking at her.

"They have the option to die peacefully," she said. "It's a little unsettling at times knowing you can only die one way." Serenity started to tear up again. Putting an arm around her she comforted her as best she could. "Why don't you head home for the night. We can handle things from here."

"What if you get an emergency…," she tried to find an excuse. Anything to avoid being alone right now.

"We'll be fine," she assured her. "I'll call you in the morning and we'll talk things over." Reluctantly Ser agreed and Susan walked her to the locker room. Serenity didn't realize it but sometimes you needed to be alone with your pain for a while. Hopefully she'd live long enough to understand that lesson. Doing her rounds Susan walked off her route and found herself in the maternity ward. One of the little ones was starting to wake up and looked ready to cry. Susan picked her up and talked in soothing tones, "Now now, we don't want to wake your roommates now do we?" Checking her diaper she realized the little one was probably hungry. Taking a quick look at her chart she said, "Well then Sally let's go and get your belly full shall we."

Making sure she grabbed the right bottle, Susan held her until she was done feeding. Old school instincts had her burp the child before putting her back. Susan lingered a bit just watching the little one go back to sleep, wondering what the future was going to hold for this particular package from heaven. Feeling an Immortal's presence long before she heard the words she waited, "I thought you doctors were trained not to get attached." Looking up Natalya stood in the door way. Susan quietly left and joined her outside.

"It's funny," Susan mused, "before I became Immortal I couldn't see children in my life. After I learned I couldn't have any I felt strangely empty." Having a hunch about what Natalya wanted to talk about she guided her to the lounge. It was usually empty this time of night so they shouldn't be interrupted. And she was right because as soon as the door closed Natalya went off about Owen. Susan sat on the arm of couch and let her blow off this head of steam the built up. "Who in the hell does that stupid fucker think he is?!"

"You have to understand what…"

"I know what he's trying to do," she cut her off. "I was right there and I heard his uncle. They wanted me to use against him, not you." Susan wasn't sure what to think about that one, she had no idea that's what they wanted. "Somehow that bastard knew about us. I don't know how but he did. He's afraid they might try it again and succeed next time."

"Well they do say forewarned is forearmed."

Natalya looked down, when she finally spoke Susan was stunned again, "My flight leaves in a couple of hours. I just… I just come by to say goodbye."

Immediately getting up she tried to talk some sense into her, "You don't have to leave. I'm sure when Owen calms down he'll be begging for you to stay."

Tearing up Natalya had a hard time looking at her, "You might have known him longer, but I know Owen better than anybody. He's not going to stop acting like a fucking jackass until I'm gone. Beside I don't know if I want to be here if…,". She trailed off and turned away. Susan reached for her and Natalya immediately held on to her for dear life.

Trying to calm her down by lightly stroking her hair the older Immortal said, "I let you know the moment I find out either way."

"Thank you." Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek Natalya left her alone in lounge. Susan wanted to go after her, convince her she was wrong about Owen. But she knew her former pupil was right. She hates it when that happens. Before she left the lounge she took a quick look at the clock. It was one thing to be alone with your pain. It was another thing entirely to isolate yourself from those who can help you through it.

"Darlene, I'm calling an early night," she said to the nurse at the front desk. "I already talked to Fred and he's going to take care of the rest of my rounds. I have to see how a friend of mine is doing." In no time she was at Owens' apartment building. She felt the buzz as she got closer so she knew he was home. She knocked on the door but he wasn't answering. She knocked again and again no response. After a third time she added, "Owen I know you're in there. I'm not leaving until you open this door."

Hearing footsteps he opened the door then quickly tried to close it again. Getting a foot in the door she forced her way in. He didn't try to stop her so she took that as a good sign. Susan closed the door behind her as he went back to the counter. Picking up his long sword he took a whetstone to it's edge. "I've seen you like this before," she began. "After Korea, after you told me what happened with that girl. You think you're heading someplace dark and you're not sure if you can turn back." Still he said nothing. "You told me your friendship with Father Andrews helped you out then. So why are you tuning everybody out now?"

"Maybe I don't want to turn away from the darkness this time around," he finally said. She studied his eyes and knew there was no conviction there.

"And we both know that's not you," she countered. "Everybody knows that's not you. Even Finlay knew." He stiffened a bit but he continued to sharpen his blade. "I know Finlay could be a real bastard at times with a skewed world view, but he was right about one thing about you. You're stuck in the past. You may be living here and now but you mind is always with your Father or Deborah or Himiko. Are you going to add Keith to that list?"

Slamming the stone on the counter he simmered there. For a brief moment Susan actually feared for her life. But his eyes started to water and tears started to fall soon after. "I should have trained him better," lowering the sword his voice quivered slightly. "I should have pushed him harder. I never should have stopped until he could handle himself in fight. At least sooner than I did."

"And Keith went up against someone he was no match for," Susan said. "I know you don't want to hear that. Nobody wants to hear that. But it's true, it happens in our life." She went up to him and he silently cried. "But he died doing the one thing he knew you would do, he died trying to save someone." She held him as he cried a little more openly. "It's alright to be sad about losing him. That was one thing Finlay was wrong about."

"I just see so many things I should have done differently with him. Things I should have done better. He should have had more than just a few extra months."

"It happens Owen, we all lose students right after we get them. And we all think it's way too soon. I know I have more than once." She wondered if she should bring up her conversation earlier with Natalya. It was what he wanted, or thought he wanted. But she wasn't sure how he'd react. Still he should know. "I saw Natalya a little while ago." He braced himself for what she was about to say. "She should be boarding her plane any time now. Of course you know how dependable the take off and arrival times are."

He closed his eyes. Damn it she should have made Natalya tell her where she was going. Maybe she could convince Owen there was time to stop her. Instead he said, "It's better this way. She's can find and be with somebody worth her time now."

"Owen you don't believe that."

"It's not like there was anything between us any way," he walked away from her. Now there was a bold face lie if she ever heard one. Of course Susan was sure he was trying to convince himself of that more than here. The lies you told yourself when you were desperate to ease you pain. "We're just fuck buddies nothing more."

"Oh really now?", Susan wasn't convinced. She went up to him and kissed him passionately. When she finally pulled away she looked him deep in the eyes. She smiled a bit when she did. "I've seen the two of you kiss several times. And you are not looking at me like you do her." He walked toward a window and wouldn't look back at her. "Owen you can lie to yourself all you want. But as your friend I'm asking you, don't lie to me."

He was struggling with himself but finally he admitted, "She'll be safer this way." Susan was somewhat relieved he finally said it out loud. "She may never want anything to do with me again but I know she'll be out of their reach. Out of that maniac's reach."

"You don't have to tell me anything new there," Susan said as she sat on one of the stools. "I thought Dijkhuizen was a myth, like Methos, until I came face to face with. Fortunately it was on holy ground otherwise I don't think I'd be here." He remained silent, and Susan felt like summing up what he was doing, "So you're mourning the death of your student, isolating yourself from your friends and drove off one of the few people who would watch your back no matter what and no questions asked. What are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do?" he repeated. "I'm going to follow a piece of advice Finlay tried to give me. I'm going to weed out my family tree." Susan was a bit disappointed in that but understood where he was coming from. "Then," he gazed into his warped reflection in the blade of his sword. Almost like he was seeing how twisted his soul was right now, "Then I'm going head hunting."


	19. Chapter 19

These past couple of days had been something else. Ever since one of Harris' games apparently went wrong. But that's what you get when you try to play the guy who taught you everything you knew about being Immortal. Or at least that's what Rob thought any way. He had always had Peter to talk to before when stuff like this popped up. Well he had Peter before he turned out to be one of them. Now he wasn't sure who to talk to. Again he started rubbing stylized W of the Watcher tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Peter had been a long time family friend. Rob never saw him as an Uncle or anything, but he was always there. Like that night he accidently walked in on him when he was watching his assigned Immortal. He wanted to call the police right then and there when she saw a woman's head chopped off. Peter did some fast talking to try and get him not to. Truth be told Rob was stupefied by the Quickening to even understand what he was saying.

He wasn't sure what to think about that. Peter talked to him, helped him understand what was going on. Even going as far as to offer him a position in the organization. It took a couple of days but Rob eventually agreed. They started him off doing research, studying the history of the immortals. Make sure information from one files doesn't contradict anything else. He was surprised at how many watchers reported the same Immortal in like three different places at times because they mistaken somebody else for them. Fortunately surveillance techniques had improved since then, otherwise this job would have been impossible. But Peter always stayed in touch, no matter where he was. After a few months he started asking him question, like what he really thought of Immortals. He didn't think much of it at the time but Rob admitted he had a problem with it. Who wouldn't when you thought about it? What made these guys so special, and what gave the supposed winner the right to rule over everybody else?

He wasn't sure when but those questions stared to change. He started asking, hypothetically of course, if he could kill an immortal if he thought it would help things. Not thinking anything of it, he said yeah. But Peter kept pressing the matter. Asking if he could really kill one of them before one of them won. Before long Rob was demanding to know why he was pressing the issue. "I'm going to e-mail you an address," was his only answer. "Memorize and delete it. Meet me there in two days at eight o'clock." In a matter of moments he got it. He didn't have a reason not to trust Peter so Rob did as he asked. When he got there he found Peter and several other men. "Here he is Trevor," Peter said. The man next to him came forward, gently rubbing the cross around his neck between his thumb and forefinger. He looked him over as he circled him.

"So," he said evenly, "you think you can kill these abominations do you?" Rob wasn't sure how to answer. "They are extremely hard to kill you know. There is only one way." One of them men with them hefted an ax, Rob wanted to back up. "So what department are you in?"

"Records." He said trying hard not to sound scared. This Trevor seemed to appreciate his attempt.

"A scholar, it's been a while since we've had one of them in our little group." Trevor stopped walking around him and headed back to Peter. "But the man was careless, let himself get caught by the others. But I'll give him credit for one thing, he never sold us out. Not even at his execution." Rob started to sweat, who in the hell were these guys.

"The council is watching the record keepers a little closer now," Peter said. "I almost didn't want to bring him in because of it."

"True," Trevor nodded. "Then again, he never was really that helpful, especially these days when you can get the information you want at your fingertips." Looking thoughtful he studied Rob again. "You know Bill was saying they're looking for some new field agents. The good Lord knows we could use the right people in the field. Help grow the ranks a little." It was about then Rob realized who these guys were. He had heard rumors of Watcher who hunted down Immortals. Dear God he was being recruited.

"Peter I do believe you and I have enough strings to pull to fast track him into some field work. Lord knows it's been done before so we shouldn't stand out."

"Maybe it should just be me," Peter said. "After all up till now he never met you officially."

"Quite right Peter, quite right," Trevor said thinking it over. "However I do believe I owe you a favor as well. We could always say you're called that in to help him." Walking back over to him he asked, "What do you say young man, do you want to do the Lords work and send these abominations back to him? If that's where they were supposed to go to begin with."

Rob looked at the group around him then looked over at Peter who just nodded at him, silently urging him to answer. Yes," Rob finally said.

Giving him the warmest smile he had ever seen Trevor told him, "Then Robert welcome to the first day of the rest of your life."

True to their word he was soon put through Watcher boot camp. Learning everything he needed to know about watching, following and recording an Immortal's life. It wasn't long after that he was given his first assignment, Scott Harris. He had to have pissed off somebody to get this character. For a relatively young Immortal his file was almost as thick as the ones a few hundred years old. At least Peter and Trevor understood why he never recruited anybody else to their cause, especially Trevor. They told him to just grin and bear it, that somebody was playing a joke on him and they would try to get him reassigned when the opportunity came up.

But Harris proved to be an interesting challenge, you never knew when he was going to up and move to another state or province, if not a different country altogether. At least once Rob lost track of him, fortunately he quickly popped up on the Watcher database. Fortunately that incident was early in his assignment and he learned from that mistake. Of course that meant maybe sleeping a few hours a night at times. Which was why Rob was thanking his lucky stars when Harris decided to stay in Chicago for more than a couple of days. It wasn't much but at least Rob could stop and catch his breath. Of course he wasn't expecting him to start buying him a drink in bar on more than one occasion. Yeah he had to really talk fast when Trevor found that out. He started yelling that they didn't need another Dawson giving away all of their secrets. And that they would be watching him to make sure he didn't screw up. Times like that he really missed Peter.

Rob still didn't know why Harris was doing it. For all he knew the Immortal was growing bored while his game was going so slow. Despite his caution, he was amazed at how open the Immortal was about his life, to a degree, telling him things that happen but with a modern spin so he wouldn't be dated. Rob didn't want to admit it but he was actually enjoying the act Harris was putting on. Then his game backfired, somebody died who wasn't supposed to according to his rules. And Rob was shocked when he figured he wasn't mad the rules were changed. He actually seemed sad, not to the point where he vowed never to play Immortals against each other again, but he could see it in his face.

Although Rob was certain he wasn't sad Matthews died. No he was upset he made Sheldon sad. That surprised Rob slightly to be honest, he never really saw Harris as a person who cared about what somebody else thought. But he was surprised again when following Harris he came across Sheldon on a relatively deserted street and got on his knees. "What are you doing?" he asked stiffly.

"Something I started eventually made you sad," he told her. "I said I never wanted to do that. So I want to set things right. I can still see you have your sword so take my head in the chance it would lighten the load you carry on your shoulders." He held his head up, totally exposing his neck. Rob thought she was going to do when she reached into her jacket. Then she remained empty handed.

"No," she said, "I want you to live with this. I want you to live with the fact Keith is dead because you wanted to play a stupid fucking game."

"As you wish," Harris said. Popping up to his feet he held his hands behind his head but he wasn't moving. "And I am said to see him go. He came to your defense at the hospital and tried to defend your honor at the bar, so he must have been a decent fellow. Much like his mentor I would imagine."

"I'm not too sure about him," she said sadly, "not any more". Harris looked interested about what that comment was about. Sheldon seemed to realize that and went somewhere else. "You're damn lucky Susan is worried about how you're reacting to what happened. If it was me I'd kill you the first chance I saw you."

"In another time I'm sure she would," Harris mused. "I've learned things about her younger days that would make your hair stand out on end."

"I think she's out of her mind but she thinks there something in you worth saving."

"Maybe there is," he said, "or maybe there isn't. Who can really say when you come down to it? But much like Susan I can judge a person character and mood at a glance. And you are uncomfortable right now. No not with this particular moment but the situation in general."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Serenity said and quickly walked away. Hands behind his head Harris followed.

"You're uncomfortable with this city, this life. Part of you wants to get away, start somewhere else." She turned around and started to say something but Harris spoke before she could. "I see it in the mirror every time I hear the wind. I see it on the face of any immortal when it's time for them to move and end their current life."

"I don't think I belong here anymore," she admitted. Although Rob had no idea why. He figured Harris walked the world so much he could basically read people at will and get them to say what he wanted. "I lived here all my life and for the first time it feels foreign, fake."

"Death has a way of doing that," Harris said. "I used to love Paris, I haven't been back since the fifties." Dropping his hands to the side he said, almost nonchalantly, "You need to get away. Leave this town and see the world."

"I can't just up and leave," she said. "I'm not you."

"Ah that's the Sister talking," Harris said with a wag of a finger. "But even she will tell you you'll have to leave eventually. No Immortal is destined to stay in one place for long, no matter how hard they try. I could take you." Again she started to say something, "Ah ah, just something to think over, a thought to mull around your head. I will be here for a little while longer, so you're answer can wait until my business is finished."

"You're still doing your game," Serenity said with some disgust.

"It's already begun, it would rude to leave before it's even finished," he told. To Rob it looked like he was shocked she would even say that. "It is who I am, it is what I do. It is one of the things that makes me… me. I do not change for anybody, nor do I expect anybody, especially you, to change for me. If we lose what makes us who we are than who are we?"

"I'm not leaving," she told him flatly.

"Yes you will," he insisted. "With me or alone I truly cannot say, but leave you will. The thought was already in your head, I simply brought out to the fore front. Until you make your decision my dear," he went to kiss her hand but she pulled it away. Taking it in stride he bowed and walked away. Rob lingered a bit and watched Serenity. She should have stormed off, at least cussed him out. But she stood there a few moments watching him before walking away in the opposite direction. With That Rob decided to call it a night before that scene started to make sense to him.

As much as he missed Peter, he found it slightly ironic people were turning to him to talk to. He'd only knew Bekah a short time, only since she was came to the city, but they formed a quick friendship. She often stopped by his place for coffee to talk things over. And he cringed slightly when he learned she was assigned to watch Dijkhuizen. He remembered reading his file back when he was checking older records, this guys was practically the poster child for Trevor's agenda. Which was why he was so surprised to see Bekah so torn about him. "He reads poetry for God sakes. What kind of monster does that?", she argued when he called him that without thinking. "He went to an art museum the other day and schooled the guide about a particular painting they were standing in front of."

"He's been around for a thousand years," Rob told her. "Anybody bound to pick up something outside of knowing how to kill a person."

"There's more to him than that," she said, looking odd to him. "I know there is. But there's nothing about this in his file anywhere. The only thing his previous Watchers wrote about was all the death and destruction. There's nothing good about him anywhere. If there's nothing good… than why did he save me?", she ended softly.

"Bekah, I'm going to tell you this as a friend, but I think you're trying too hard to find something that isn't there." Rob sat next to her at the table. She wouldn't or couldn't look at him. "I don't know what he was thinking. Hell I don't even know how he knew your name. But more than likely he saw a challenge and decided to act on it. You know I'm right."

"I don't know," she said.

"Go home and sleep on it," he told her. "Get a clear head. You're not doing yourself any favors trying to turn this guy into something he's not in your head."

"You're right," she eventually admitted. "I'm letting one incident cloud my judgment. Thanks Rob," she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

He walked her to the door and dropped his head when he was alone. Literally a second before she got there Trevor sent him an e-mail. They were in the mood to go hunting again and they wanted him to pick the next target. Luckily he closed the e-mail before he answered the door. And Rob didn't think he could explain that one away easily. Harris maybe but not him. Ever since Peter was killed he had nobody to talk to about his doubts about all of this. But knowing what Peter would say he logged into the Watcher database and went hunting for a target. The first thing he did was eliminated anybody they were assigned too. He still couldn't believe they agreed with him when he first suggested that. Which also made Malcolm McAllister a very lucky man otherwise he would have been on top of the list.

The next thing he did was check for updates for any Immortal who recently died. Then he did his best to cross off any one who left the city or was planning on leaving anytime soon. If they were lucky enough to get out of town now who was he to mark them for death. He did the same with any Immortal just entering the city too. It just seemed rude for some reason. So his list was narrowed greatly, and he arranged it order of age. Some of the names that popped out at him were Susan Jones, Michel Dijkhuizen and Owen McAllister. There were more but those names stood out. Rob highlighted Jones's name and deleted it from the list. She already faced death once, there was no point in putting her through any more this soon. Yeah Peter would tell him he was crazy for thinking that.

He went up and down the list several times but his eyes kept going back to McAllister and Dijkhuizen. Dijkhuizen he could see, the man was a maniac. McAllister was usually a decent guy according to his file. But after he lost his student he was apparently cutting himself off from everybody he knew and training like crazy when he wasn't looking for his Uncle. Rob didn't want to think it but it was possible he was going to tip over the edge and become something dangerous. It might be better to put him out of his misery now. Continue to study both files Rob made his decision. He shot an e-mail to Trevor and arranged a meeting. He always wanted this done face to face with the others. He claimed there was a lesser chance of the message being intercepted or something.

Hours later at a parking garage nobody hardly used Rob pulled up and found Trevor and the others waiting for him. Grunting a few greetings to those who welcomed him he set his lap top on the top of the hood of his car. Without a word he pulled up the file and turned it around. The image of Michel Dijkhuizen stared them in the face. Trevor walked away as Marcus whistled, "Damn man you don't think small do you."

"I'm not sure about this one," Trevor said in a real small voice. All of them looked at him, he usually saying things like "A perfect target" or "The abomination days are numbered". Nobody, as far as Rob knew, saw him unsure about anything. He saw them looking at him and quickly tried to backtrack, "I mean this man is a monster…"

"Which is why we should take him down now," Rob asserted. "You keep calling these thing abominations. Well this is the goddamned poster child. Some record keepers I used to work with put him right up there with the Kurgan. Not all of them but a few have. This guy does nothing but take heads, and he's getting stronger with each one he takes. If we want to make sure none of them can win the Prize we have to start with him before we can't."

"What if we're already too late?", Trevor asked.

"Then we should stop hunting these freaks right now," Rob told him plainly.

"The kid's right," Marcus spoke up. "Enough of these small fry, if we really want to protect humanity we need to start taking out the stronger ones. This maniac is the perfect target." The others started to quickly agree with them, all except for Trevor.

Grabbing at his cross he thought long and hard. Before long he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Your right of course," he finally said. "I let the myth around the man get to me for a second. How… human of me." A few of them laughed at his joke, Rob didn't find it funny. "Robert I know you want to join in on the fun but I'm going to ask you to stay back for this one. Some of the other Watchers are getting suspicious of us. As far as I know they don't know about you yet it would be better in the long run if they didn't. It's hard enough to do what is necessary without the others breathing down your neck."

"I understand," Rob said, trying hard to hide the relief he was feeling at the moment.

"Will kick him extra hard for you kid," Marcus said as he past him and the group started to disburse. Surprised his shaking knees didn't give him away he slowly turned around and packed up his laptop. He was going to try to find a way out of it anyway, saying he didn't know when Harris was going to move and he already lost him once.

But as he started to get back into his car he heard Trevor say one thing. He muttered, "It's going to be hell explaining this one to McAllister." Now what did he mean by that?


	20. Chapter 20

Sitting in a car on a chilly night, eating some cold Chinese food Bekah waited. She sighed a bit as she moved the remnants of the carton around with her chop sticks. Most people had somewhat normal family business they went into, mom and pop stores, restaurants, hell multimillion dollar corporations. Not her family. No they were Watchers for about five generations now. She knew things about certain Immortals that of most others didn't. There were a few things she wishes she could wipe from her mind completely. But that's what you get when you're teenager wanting to stick it you your parents when they tell you not to look in those files. Nights like tonight wouldn't be so bad if this Watcher thing paid, luckily with her connections she could at least get her travel expenses covered. Everything else was up to her.

But that's where having friends comes in handy. Rob was able to point out a bookstore that was looking for some part time help. The pay wasn't much, but it paid her bills and the hours were flexible enough that she could do her other job with minimum hassle. She just dreaded the day she was in the field and her boss would call her to come in for an extra shift. Considering how close she got sometimes Bekah was jumpy enough as it is. And with her assignment, the less attention you attracted the better.

An alley lit up briefly and she paid real close attention. A stray bolt of lightning shot out here and there. But she knew it wasn't lightning. That was a Quickening, an Immortal just died. And she knew it wasn't him. What she saw, while impressive in it's own way, she knew it wasn't his. For some reason she thought his would be more… earth shaking. After a few minutes a man with dark hair and wearing nothing but black or dark clothing under his trench coat walked out of the alley. He looked around, more than likely to see if anybody was unfortunate enough to see that. Then he walked away. Bekah took out her digital camera and took a quick couple of pictures for the records. Michel Dijkhuizen, everybody said if she was smart she would be very afraid of him. But for some strange reason she couldn't figure out she wasn't.

And there was enough stuff in his file to give a person nightmares for the rest of their life. She went into the job fully prepared to hate this person for the duration of the assignment. Then he rescued her, stranger still he knew her name. That freaked her out more than the attempted rape and the massacre that followed. After she calmed down she went into Dijkhuizen history for the past twenty seven years. She didn't remember meeting or seeing him before. Then again he was somebody you tried to blank out of your memory if you did meet him. Finding nothing in the records she started to search through her father's files. She knew from personal experience that some Watcher didn't report everything they saw. Outside of Rob nobody knew Dijkhuizen knew her name, and she swore him to secrecy about it. Her superiors would have pulled her off the assignment before she could even argue for her own safety. Then she would never know how he knew. Unfortunately her Father's files didn't say anything either so she was still in the dark.

A couple of day after that she was able to get a spot on the rooftop of a building next to the converted warehouse he was living in. Using a telescopic lens she was able to get a look inside, well a look inside the library or whatever he called it. She saw him come out of a side room. Although it was a quick glimpse inside she could see a couple of swords hanging on the wall, that had to be his trophy room. Bekah had read reports of him taking trophies from Immortals he's killed. Usually it was a sword, but occasionally he'd take something else like that chair he was currently sitting in. It wasn't all the time, usually with an Immortal he found interesting or particularly challenging. Dijkhuizen had taken a book from one of the selves a moment prior and started reading it. Bekah got a close up of the book, "What the hell?" He was reading a book of poetry. What freaked her out even more was the fact she had that same book. Although she had a feeling his copy was older than hers. A closer examination of the bookshelves revealed more books on poetry. She was stunned this wasn't in any reports she read on him. But for some reason it seemed right to her.

To make matters worse the dreams started again. Back when she was a little girl she used to have such vivid dreams. Dreams of another time, another place. In those dreams she was older, everything was wilder, more savage. Yet it felt so right at times it confused her. In those dreams Bekah was drawn to a figure cast in shadows. Everybody was afraid of him, except for her. No she felt nothing but love for him. When she started middle school the dreams slowly faded away. In high school she started dating, but none of them ever lasted more the three dates. The boys she was with didn't feel 'right' somehow. Bekah couldn't explain it, most of her friends and family said her standards were too high. For a long time she thought they were right, but still she couldn't find anybody who felt 'right' to her.

After she was assigned to watch Dijkhuizen they stared again. This time she put it down to the fact she read too much about him in too short of time and it triggered an old buried memory of the dream. Except now they were even more vivid and she was even closer to the man in the shadows. The dream was so real she could hear the individual conversations in the background, see the birds fly in the air, smell the meat cooking over a pit of fire, feel the cool air against her skin. A couple of times she thought what she was dreaming was real and her real life was the dream. Yeah she needed to see a shrink all right.

Getting out of bed and trying to get the kink out of heck from her neck from the late night car surveillance she headed for her computer. Bekah still had to log in her report from the previous night, and she wanted to check on Dijkhuizen file. Just in case he did something while she was asleep, which was often. Bekah winced as she checked the time on her computer, it was almost noon and she had to be at work in an hour. Munching on a pop tart while she quickly typed her report she saved it to the computer planning to send it in after her shift. Then she saw an addition to his file. "And Rob complains about Harris," she said to herself.

It wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be, part of her was convinced it was going to be about some other poor smuck that was unfortunate enough to run into him. No this was sent in from the younger McAllister's watcher, Radcliffe. McAllister and Dijkihuizen apparently both discovered the older one and Harris talking to each other. And there was a video file too. She clicked on it and waited for it to load. Her player popping up she saw Harris and the older McAllister soon enough, they were in the middle of the screen. She didn't see the younger one but her assignment was in the lower corner listening. From the look of things he was far enough away that they didn't sense him or they were so engross in their conversation they didn't notice. Out of curiosity Bekah raised the volume to see if she could hear what they were saying. It was faint but she could just make out what they were saying over the slight squeal of the speakers.

"You shouldn't have involved the Sister!" Harris yelled.

"Quiet boy," The older one said. "You were the one who one who went behind my back and started talking to that half Irish bastard."

"Only because you brought in Big Evil." Big Evil, that was a new one to her.

"Do you think I would actually fall into one of your petty little games? Or that I would actually bother to sully my hands on a watered down Scotsman?"

"Seems to me you don't like to sully your hands on anything," Harris said walking past him.

"Be careful about what you say Harris. Remember who you're talking to."

Harris stopped. Bekah recognized the look on his face, he sensed Dijkhuizen then he saw him. A smile growing on his face he said, "What are you going to Malcolm?". Losing the smile he looked deadly serious as he turned back around, "Set you little humans after me?"

"What?", Bekah was confused.

"I know my stalker would love to get his hands on you," McAllister said. "But he's holding off because of some punk in his organization." Holy shit, he was talking about the Watchers. "But from what I understand they have bigger fish to catch." With that he walked away.

Harris looked behind him, Bekah could see the smile on his face, "I'm sure they do." In the lower corner she saw Dijkhuizen contemplate what he just heard and walk off in another direction. Bekah immediately shot an e-mail to Radcliffe, just to see if he got that Watcher reference too. This was big if Malcolm's Watcher was working with him. She couldn't wait for a response, she had to get dressed and head for work.

Work was a light one. Not a whole lot of people were coming in. And there was no shipment that day either so the most they could do was go around and put back any books that were misplaced and read a magazine or two. Good thing the main boss was gone today otherwise they couldn't even do that. "Anything good in the tabloids?" Bekah asked as she went back to the counter.

"Just the usual," her friend Tammy said. "But I'm digging this necklace she's wearing."

Peeking over her shoulder Bekah saw the necklace in question, it was a plain gold chain but it looked outstanding. "Now that's a classic look. Simple but elegant." Then something weird happened. Bekah was wide awake and she was back in her dream. It was getting late in the day and the man cast in shadows was at a river. He was washing something, it was a gold chain. He pulled it out and gave it to her saying something.

"Bek, you ok?", Tammy said waving a hand in her face. "Bekah?"

"What…?", she snapped out of it trying to remember where she was. "Yeah Tammy I'm fine."

"Why don't you go get yourself something to drink or something, just to get some air. You look like you need it," Tammy told her. "We're super slow today I can hold things down until you get back."

"Yeah... thanks," Bekah said as she headed for the door. "I'll be back in a moment." Running into the nearest women's restroom she splashed some water in her face. What the hell was that? That's never happened before. She needed something a little stiffer than the drinks they served in the food court right about now. As it was it took a few minutes to get her nerves under control. Heading back to her job she tried to joke about what happened. "I guess that necklace was a bigger stunner than I thought." Tammy gave a half hearted laugh, yeah she wasn't feeling it either. Didn't help matters any that she happened to turn her head and see that book of poetry Dijkhuizen was reading the other night.

That night she started surveillance on Dijkhuizen again. Luckily it was a clear night, she hated doing this in the rain, it made her job that much harder. Which was weird because she usually loved the rain, always had. But something still felt wrong tonight, something she felt before but she wasn't sure from where, or what. It was like there was something in the air. Where did she feel this before? Deciding to do her surveillance on foot this time around she stayed far enough behind him to keep him in view. And she had her hand wrapped around a can of mace in her pocket just in case. He went around the corner and she quickened her pace a bit so she wouldn't lose him. But she stopped when she saw a guy across the street. She knew him, he was a fellow Watcher. Bekah thought his name was Steve. He said something on a cellphone then went in the same direction Dijkhuizen went. By the time she hit the corner she saw a couple of more people she knew.

"What in the hell?", she muttered as she continued to watch. Dijkhuizen stopped and looked around, almost like he knew something was up. He went into the alley, a few moments later Steve and the others followed him in. She should have called her superiors, let them know what was going on. Instead she followed them in, and hoped she wasn't going to regret this. When she found them she saw other people she knew surrounding him. For some reason Bekah stomach started to feel queasy.

"Hello abomination," she recognized Trevor Rader pretty quickly, then she remembered he was Malcolm McAllister's Watcher, oh God.

"You're definitely the most well dressed set of thugs I've come across," Dijkhuizen sneered and gauged the situation.

"Oh we are much more than that," Trevor said as they got a little closer. The immortal drew his red colored sword. A couple of them moved back a step or two. Trevor stayed put not looking impressed. "What's wrong abomination? Not used to seeing anybody not cower in fear of you before."

"Then why are you starting to sweat?", Dijkhuizen taunted. Somebody tried to sneak up behind him. The next moment he was down on the ground dead with a huge gash in his chest. Blood starting to pool around the body he turned to face Trevor again. Again she flashed back to her dream, the man cast in shadows was surrounded by a mob, a mob who wanted him dead. Bekah came back to her senses and looked behind her. She was positive somebody was about to capture her from behind but nobody was there. Trevor pulled his hand out of his pocket. A device was in his hand as he pointed it at Dijkhuizen. Two wires shot out and hit him, one in the chest the second somewhere in his coat. Still there was enough juice going through the tazer hook to drop him to his knees.

"No," Bekah whispered.

"Take his head," Trevor demanded, "now!" Bekah wanted to rush and stop them but she couldn't move. Dijkhuizen yelled as the electric charge ran through him again. Still he could drop his sword in such a way that it cut the line in to his chest. That done he grabbed the other wire and pulled it out of his coat. Trevor started to back up this time, fear etching his face. "Get him! Get him!"

"Raagh!", Dijkhuizen swung his sword wildly, Steve was unlucky enough not to move in time and was almost cut in half. The next instant he sliced the head off the other one. Bekah should have been afraid of what she was seeing but she wasn't. In fact she was smiling and silently cheering him on. Another came at him with an axe in hand. Dijkhuizen swung up and was sprayed with blood. The man held a blody stump while most of his arm and the axe lay on the ground. He kicked another Watcher in the gut before ramming his sword into the axe man's forehead. Punching another in the face he ducked as somebody else she knew jumped at him. Dijkhuizen grabbed him by the back of the head and smashed his face into the brick wall. A bloody smear followed him as he slid to the ground.

Trevor grabbed a board and came at him. Dijkhuizen batted it away with his sword and kicked him to the ground. He continued to massacre the rest of the Watchers while Trevor crawled away muttered, "Damn it McAllister why did you get him involved?"

"McAllister?", DIjkhuizen said as he pulled his sword out of the last one. He stepped over bodies and body parts as the Watchers lay there dead or dying. Trevor held on to his cross for dear life as he tried to back into the wall. Grabbing Trevor by the collar he hauled him to his feet. Trevor pissed himself as he stared into the eyes of Dijkhuizen. "Malcolm McAllister? He sent you?"

"Yes," Trevor nodded readily. "He sent us to kill you. That has to be worth something." Bekah was stunned, he was working with McAllister.

"It is," DIjkihuizen said. He let him go. Trevor started to run. He didn't go far as a red blade ran him through. Getting into his ear Dijkhuizen said. "I'll make your death quick." Removing the sword Trevor dropped to the ground. Walking over to another body Dijkhuizen wiped his sword on the body of one of the fallen on the ground then proceeded to pull the tazer hook out of his chest. Then he looked over to Trevor, after a moment he started grinning. She wasn't sure why but he went back over to Trevor picking him up and throwing him across his shoulder. Bekah hid behind the wall as he looked in her direction. When she looked back he was gone.

It took several hours but she finally found him in an old abandoned factory near his warehouse slash apartment. Admiring Trevor cross in his hand Dijkhuizen leaned against a pillar. She found Trevor's body lying on the ground. What was he planning on doing? She nearly jumped out of her skin as Trevor breathed in and came back to life. He got to his knees and looked very frightened. He didn't seem to realize Dijkhuizen was right behind him. He threw the cross to the side and drew his sword out of his coat. Trevor looked behind him and tried to scream but nothing was coming out. A sick grin on his face Dijkhuizen simply said, "There can be only one." The next instant he took Trevor's head and started to absorb his Quickening. Bekah found herself smiling, she was actually glad Dijkhuizen survived and taking revenge on the ones who tried to kill him. Why was she smiling at that?


	21. Chapter 21

The music pounded in the background as he continued his work out. The lights above him would hit the blade of his sword in such a way it looked like it was pulsating red every so often. Michel was totally lost in the exercise, on the verge of letting his rage take control. But he kept that in check unless he was in battle. Both his old troop leader and Kronos said that was his biggest strength, knowing when to release it. Getting more intense as he fought his imaginary opponents he eventually slowed his movements. At the end of the exercise he held the sword loosely in his hand as he took in and let out a deep, controlled breath. Finding his center he looked up at an upper window of the former warehouse. The night was still young and there were heads to take.

Cleaning up and getting dressed he put the sword in the hidden sheath in his trench coat and headed for the door. Michel paused at the door, almost a thousand years of instinct told him something was off. He wasn't sensing another Immortal but something in his gut told him somebody was there. A little more cautiously he opened the door, his right grasping the handle of his sword. He was attacked by a group of humans recently, he would be ready if they tried it again. He hid his surprise when he saw the woman on the other side, it was the woman who looked like his Bekah. Without a word from him she said, "I can give you Malcolm McAllister."

Keeping his guard up he asked, "How do you know about McAllister?" His eyes glanced around for any strange shadows that shouldn't have been there while he waited for the answer.

"The man who lead the group that attacked you, the one whose head you took. He was McAllister's Watcher," she said.

"How do you know about that?", he asked warily. She held up her right arm and pulled back the sleeve of her jacket, a tattoo of a circle and something that looked like a W adorned her wrist.

"Because I'm one too," she said. "I'm assigned to watch you." His first instinct was to pull his sword and make her tell him everything, but his hand wasn't moving. "We're only supposed to record and not interfere. You want more proof, the other Watchers know some of us are missing, they just don't know why. If they found out an Immortal did it they would be on him in an instant. I never told them what happened so you're safe for now."

Stepping in closer he towered over her, "Are you threatening me?"

"No," she said while backing off. "I wanted you to give you a chance to get back at the one who sent them after you."

"Why do you want to help me?"

Michel had to give her credit for one thing, she didn't look like she was afraid of him. On the battlefield he could smell the fear coming off of those he fought. Usually the moment they saw him. This one she was cautious but not afraid. In a way she almost reminded him of… "Rules were broken when they helped McAllister. I want to make sure he doesn't get another chance at corrupting others into doing his dirty work."

"So you're breaking those same rules I'd imagine by telling me this," oh this was amusing.

"A necessary evil," she said. "I'm very familiar with your file. I know you wanted McAllister's head for a while now. I'm giving you a free shot at him." Done listening to this crazy woman he pushed his way past her. She followed saying, "How long will it take you to find him on your own? I've been watching you, I know you been trying. But he's always around another Immortal or on holy ground. How long before you catch him off of holy ground and alone? How long before he decides to skip town?"

Stopping but not turning around he considered what she said. She did have a point, McAllister could be readying to leave now for all he knew. Still not turning around Michel asked, "What do you get out of this? I've been around too long to know you don't offer anything like that and not want something in return."

"I just want to know why you saved me," she answered. "And how in the hell did you know my name?"

Finally turning around Michel arched an eyebrow as he studied her. This woman's name was actually Bekah? If he still believed in them he would have said the Gods were having a field day playing with him. But there was a reason why he was still standing there listening to her. "Do you have this information with you?"

Reaching into her coat she pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to him. "This shows where he spends most of his time. As you can imagine most of his regular haunts are close to holy ground. But you can catch him in a couple of spot where he'd be fair game." Reading the information inside Michel started to grin slightly. Now he finally had McAllister. "Well, we had a deal. Know how the fuck did you know my name?"

Turning away he started walking. But for some reason he told her, "Because you reminded me of her."

"Her?", she asked as she started to follow. "Her who?"

"My Bekah," he said softly. She stopped in her tracks when she heard that.

Ever since the encounter with his half Irish nephew things haven't been going like he wanted it to. Harris has been confrontational ever since he decided to use that wench as bait for his nephew. Michel has been strangely absent. Even his stalker disappeared recently, and he could usually find that human when he needed him. And to top it off he had this strangest feeling he was being followed the past couple of days. No things felt like they were turning against him. Malcolm hasn't felt like this since he ran his own brother out of his village. Too bad there was nobody around in this day and age that he could do the same to.

Malcolm paused slightly as he sensed another Immortal. A chill went down his spin as he heard the sound of metal scrapping against asphalt. Trying to contain his fear he slowly turned around to see Michel coming at him, a sick grin on his face. "There's nowhere for you to hide now McAllister."

"Michel," he said trying to remain calm. "What a pleasant surprise. I was just thinking about you."

"I bet you were." He rushed him trying to slam his sword on top of his head. Malcolm dove out of the way. Hastily drawing his claymore he blocked the next strike at his head and kicked him away. This was bad, this was very bad. He wasn't any where near any holy ground and Michel caught him off guard. Even when he knew he was around it generally wasn't a good thing. "I've been waiting for this for decades!" Michel said as he didn't let up on his attack. "Ever since our first meeting in Prague. You thought you were so clever mocking me from holy ground, trying to get me to attack that bitch you had a problem with. I told you as soon as I was done with her I was coming after you!"

"Yes you did," Malcolm grunted as he kicked him away to make some space. Malcolm's mind raced as he tried to remember where the nearest holy ground was. A church, a cemetery, a Mosque, an Indian burial ground anything. He was drawing a complete blank as Michel kept coming at him. As it was he was barely keeping his sword up from Michel's barrage. "Is this how you want to do it Michel?", he asked as he quickly backed up to get a breather. "Catching me off guard and by surprise?" Michel paused a bit, maybe he was getting through. "You've been after my head for a long time, do you really want to sully the moment like this?"

Looking like he was thinking it over Malcolm began to sweat as he started grinning again, "I don't really care." Yelling like a wild beast he came at him again. No, this was not how it was suppose to play out. He wanted Michel weakened, frustrated, preoccupied. Hell he would have been satisfied with somebody else finally beating Michel. But not full bore like this. His only chance was to go on the attack himself and try to catch him off guard. Michel's smile seemed to grow bigger when he did. Sparks started to fly off their blades as they clashed for all their worth. Malcolm couldn't help but think that all of those baby Quickenings helped make him stronger than he thought he be. Michel didn't even look like he was trying that hard.

Finally getting through his defenses Malcolm cut a huge slash across his chest. He didn't get a chance to feel any sort of victory as Michel swung his sword wildly as he tried not to go down. Trying to turn to avoid it Malcolm didn't even feel it when it happened. The first indication he had something was wrong was when he thought he heard something plop on the ground. Then he felt something wet growing on his left side as Michel started laughing. Then he felt the pain as he looked down and saw his arm was missing just above the elbow. Going down to a knee Malcolm watched Michel hover over him. In an act of desperation Malcolm plunged his Claymore into Michel's gut. He stood there looking down at Malcolm, he knew it was over if a miracle didn't happen.

"What the fuck is going on?", a police officer came running at them. Michel looked annoyed at the intrusion. Malcolm saw that miracle he was praying for. Taking the momentary distraction he had he grabbed Michel by the shirt and threw him toward the policeman, his claymore ripping into him even more. "What the fuck?", he exclaimed as he tried not to fall from the added weight. Then he noticed the blood coming from his wound. "Holy shit! Hang on buddy I'll get you an ambulance." His hand went as far as the microphone on his chest before Michel grabbed him by the throat.

"You're not going to need it," Michel told him as he rammed his sword through him. Letting the officer drop he turned his attention back toward Malcolm. He was gone. "No," he snarled. The only thing left was his severed arm. Picking that up Michel hurled it against a wall in frustration, "Fuck it no!" He followed the trailed of blood but it was quickly trickling down to nothing. Either McAllister was got smart and was holding the arm up or his Immortal abilities kicked in and were sealing the wound. Arriving at an intersection he saw nobody, he didn't even sense another Immortal. "MCALLISTER!!!", he roared at the heavens. He was not going to be denied this.

Malcolm stumbled through the streets, pushing down anybody in his way, ignoring those who wanted to help him. He took the long way around to his apartment building just to throw Michel off his trail, even if it was momentarily. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," he muttered over and over. This was not how it was supposed to happen. Michel was supposed to take out his bastard nephew and that's it. He was supposed to be out of here by now, far away from Michel. But Harris had to play his games and change his plans. He expected it and thought he would be able to contain his meddling. But no Harris still wouldn't do what he wanted him to. Going behind his back and warning that bastard what was coming, preparing him, making him change his plan even more. Disrespectful little prick.

His building was in sight but he wasn't going there, no he'd be trapped there if Michel caught up with him. His destination was the parking garage a block away from his building. His car and a small duffel bag of clothes in the trunk, everything he needed to make a fast get away. Fate seemed to be with him as he ran past the empty security station and hit the stairs. He tried to prioritize what he had to do once he left to keep himself calm. First order of business was to get as far away from here as possible. Second find some sort of prosthetic for his now useless arm. It pretty much signaled to any Immortal that he was an easy target. His train of thought was broken when he reached the level his car was one and felt another Immortal close by. No it couldn't be Michel, not now.

He looked around until he started hear footsteps. A lone figure was coming toward him. And it was almost as bad as if it was Michel. His bastard nephew continued walking until they were a few feet apart before stopping. That half Irish bastard was blocking his path to his car. Malcolm tried to go around him but he kept getting in his way. "Just like your father," Malcolm spat.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Owen told him. Without a word Owen drew his Long Sword. Knowing he couldn't talk his way out of this Malcolm retrieved his Claymore with his good arm.

"Just like your Father," Malcolm told him. "Thinking you're better than those older than you." Not waiting for his nephew Malcolm went after him. Owen blocked each strike as he backed up. Malcolm looked for any sign of contempt in the younger Immortal's eyes. He saw nothing but determination. "That was William in a nutshell, always questioning my decisions even when we were boys. He always thought he was better than me."

"He wanted you to be better," Owen shot back going on the offensive. Malcolm tried hard to fall backwards. "He told me how you ran your village, how you used fear and superstition to keep them under your control. He questioned you because he thought you could lead them without that."

"You weren't there!" Malcolm exploded. He took a homerun swing at his head that Owen ducked. Before he came up Malcolm kicked the point of his shoe into his gut. Owen doubled over and tried to get some of the breath back in his body. "You have no idea what it was like!" Malcolm tried to take his head but Owen was able to get his sword up. "William had no idea of the weight on my shoulders. Who was he to question what I did."

"He was somebody who looked up to you," Owen grunted knocking him back.

Michel stormed down the street. It took him a while to calm down after McAllister's disappearing act but when he did he remember he still had that envelope that woman gave him. In it was McAllister's current address. He was on his way there when he noticed Harris hanging around an old church. He looked over and waved before returning his attention back toward a multi level parking garage. "Out of my way," Michel snarled, the sooner he got his hands on McAllister the better.

"He's not home if that's where you're going," Harris said nonchalantly. "He's a tad busy at the moment." Michel started to demand to know what he was rambling about then he heard it. The clashing of swords. He looked up at the garage and started to head for it. "There a challenge going on. The true game is finally afoot as they say. It's a strange saying though 'afoot' wouldn't you agree?", he said examining his own foot. Michel tuned him out as he stood there listening to the sounds of battle, what should have been his battle

Despite his new handicap Malcolm was able to keep up with Owen but just barely. He was able to change his usual fighting strategy just enough so he could use the claymore with just the one hand. For some reason he was comparing the styles of Michel and this half Irish bastard in his head. His nephew was seemingly in more control, more precise in his attack. He could usually beat precise, he just had to unnerve them in some way. It's why he started to talk about William, just in the hopes it would cause his son to misstep, zag where he wanted to zig. It should have worked but his focus was to strong, even as he argued back about his Father. Dear God he was so much like William it was disgusting. "You probably dreamed about a moment like this," Malcolm said

"I never knew you were still around until recently," Owen said blocking another swing at his neck. Maybe if he kept him defending his head he'd leave himself open for a strike elsewhere.

"But you had to do dream about getting revenge for you Father while you were growing up." Malcolm upped his attack , getting him to back up again. "When he told you how I ran him out of town. Told you stories about how the village turned against him." His tactic worked and he scored with a slash to his thigh. Seeing an opening he tried to damage him even more for the killing strike. "How he told you how much he hated me."

There was something in Owen eyes in that instant that gave him pause. The next moment Owen came at him swinging, his leg still bleeding. Malcolm backed up until he hit a pillar and couldn't go any further. In the next instant the claymore went flying out of his hand and Owen's blade was at his neck. Gasping at the sensation of the blade against his neck he looked at the young man's eyes. He was surprised to see he was tearing up. "He forgave you!", he exploded. Malcolm was at a loss for words. "That was who he was, that was what he did. No matter what you did to him no matter how bad you hurt him he'd find a way to forgive you. I sat there and listened to him speak of his village and of you and I saw nothing but love in his eyes. If your head wasn't stuck up your ass maybe you would have realized that."

"So… nephew." Malcolm said standing very still. "What are you going to do now? You have me at your mercy, but would your Father want you to take revenge?"

He was quiet for several moments before looking away and saying, "No." He looked disgusted with himself for speaking it out loud. "He wouldn't want me to do it. I've tried to be like him as much as possible." Malcolm wanted to relax but was very aware that the long sword was still at his neck. "But there's just one little thing."

"And what… and what might that be?", Malcolm gulped.

"There can be only one," he said coldly. Malcolm eyes went wide as he drew the sword back and swung. It sliced cleanly through his neck and he was no more as his head and body fell to the ground. Owen stepped back a bit and slowly raised his arms and braced himself as the Quickening came to him.

"No," Michel said. Both he and Harris felt the Quickening happen before it got violent and heard the screaming. "McAllister was mine!" He ran into the parking garage looking for blood. Harris stood there for a moment before lowering his head. That was his mentor after all.

Engines came on and headlight and the lights above him started flashing and exploding as Owen stood there absorbing the Quickening. The pain was unimaginable but as always he endured. The energy seemed to be endless as it poured out of the headless body. His throat felt raw and his voice was horse as he dropped to his knees after it was over. Regaining his senses he felt the buzz and froze. He looked up to see Dijkhuizen run at him. Knowing he was in no shape to take him on now he forced his body to get up and run. Owen heard him get closer as he made his way to the railing leading outside. Getting close he jumped on top of the barricade and launched himself off as Dijkhuizen swung at him. The red sword hit nothing but concrete as he dropped toward the street. Owen landed on top of a passing truck with a thud. He started to slide off so he plunged his sword into the top of the trailer and held on for dear life.

Freeing his sword Michel watched him escape on top of the truck seething with fury. He followed it for a couple of blocks before seeing the younger McAllister, the only McAllister now finally jump off of it. There was no way he could catch up with him now. "Ragh!", he took his fury out on the hood of a nearby car, slamming his sword into it again and again. By the time he was done the hood looked like a pile of steel ribbons. Putting the sword back in it's sheath he walked over to what was left of Malcolm McAllister and picked up his head by the hair. Looking into McAllister's dead eyes he started to grin, "It looks like I finally have a reason to hunt down your Nephew." Dropping the head he headed for the nearest staircase

Back down on the street Harris put his hands behind his head and started walking off. "This game is over and a new one is about to begin," he said to himself. "Big Evil has taken something from the young one and the young one has taken something from Big Evil. It's not one of mine so I don't really care one way or another. But that doesn't mean I can't lend a hand. Who knows maybe I can make a particular little bird happy again, or maybe not. Who can say really?"


	22. Chapter 22

Susan let him use her usual training area to practice when he was hunting his Uncle down since he knew the Father would try to talk him out of it if he went to the church. When he finally cornered and killed him he went back and practiced harder, there was somebody else he had to hunt down. And if Susan was right he might not be coming out of this alive. Still that doesn't mean he was going to lie down and let Dijkhuizen take his head without a fight. Owen thought he had an idea at how he was going to survive, he just needed to finally pick that damn move up. Fixing a stick to a practice dummy's hand he stood in position in front of it with his long sword ready. Getting his breath under control he concentrated. He tried to knock the stick of the way. When he did he tried to go for the head, Again he failed in the attempt. "Damn it!", he kicked the dummy in frustration. Over two hundred years and he still couldn't do this stupid strike. How in the hell did Naoto make it look so easy?

Feeling the buzz he froze when he heard unfamiliar footsteps come toward him. Glancing over at the door he saw Harris come toward him with his hands behind his head. "Naoto said he had a hard time teaching that moves to others," he said. "I picked it up easily enough so I don't see what the problem is. You even have him in you so there must be something wrong with you."

"Go away Harris," Owen growled. "I'm in no mood for your games."

"My game is done," he said, "finished, finite. It is over and you have won. But you seem to have a few loose ends you need to tie up. Am I one of those loose ends? Because I've never been one before it is a rather interesting sensation."

Feeling the scar on his neck Owen glared at him, "Just be glad Susan made me promise not to kill you. Yet," he added.

"Ah the good sister," he said. "Still looking out for me after all these years." Owen ignored him and went back to the dummy. After a couple of more failed attempts he smacked the dummy around. "You're not going to last long that way. I've seen Big Evil in action, he eats frustrated people for breakfast."

"Why are you still fucking here?!", Owen exploded. "You said it yourself your game is over."

"I'm trying to make a particular little blue eyed bird happy again," he said. "Best way to do that is to help you locate Big Evil. I won't fight him with you there are rules to this thing after all." Harris held out a piece of paper in his hand. Owen didn't budge. "Don't believe me? I am truly and deeply hurt. Perhaps," he said drawing his cutlass, "you want to try and fight me for it, going another round as it were. En Guard."

Owen blocked his initial attack. "I am not in the mood." But Harris still came at him. He went for a horizontal slash. Owen grabbed his wrist with his left hand and spun keeping Harris' sword arm behind him. Harris flinched slightly as he felt the edge of the sword against his neck. Owens' promise to Susan was the only thing staying his hand. Staying in that position for a few moments he started chuckling, "And to think I told Naoto that would never work."

"He did have a small obsession with unbeatable moves," Harris quickly agreed. "Never put much stock in them myself, they always seemed more like a crutch than help." Owen nodded in agreement. "So now what friend, you have me at your mercy. My life, quite literally, is in your hands." Keeping his gaze on Harris Owen tapped the handle of his long sword with his thumb. Getting the message Harris slipped the piece of paper with Dijkhuizen's location under it. "So are we even now?"

"Not yet." Owen let go of his wrist but he pulled the length of the sword against his neck, cutting deep. Harris went down to the floor holding the new opening in his body. Owen didn't cut deep enough to kill him, just enough to scar him. Walking over him he said, "Now we're even."

"Bad form", Harris muttered as the blood seeped through his finger, "seriously bad form."

At that same time Michel was practicing with his with his sword in his bedroom, wearing only his pants. Yes Malcolm was gone, but after that initial outburst he wasn't as mad as he thought he would be. In fact he was enjoying the waiting game a little, this McAllister was a fighter and might be an interesting challenge. Finishing his practice he looked out the window at the setting sun, he was out there somewhere. It was only a matter of time. A groan made him look around. A sheet just covering a leg the woman who shared his Bekah's name started to stir. He admired her naked form for a moment as she woke. After helping him locate Malcolm she stayed around. Michel didn't exactly turn her away. "You're awake, good I'm still in the mood." Taking his pants off he got back in bed with her.

"No more," Bekah told him weakly. She tried to get up, "Please I need to rest a little more." He held her down. His tongue played with her neck as she stopped struggling in. Bekah moaned as he continued to play with her, fondling her. Finally he entered her and in moments she was screaming his name, "MICHEL!"

Owen went back to his apartment before heading out. As much as he hated to admit it Harris was right, he wouldn't last long against Dijkhhuizen if he went in there out of control. Remember some of the mediating tips Susan and Naoto taught him he tried to find his center again. After a few hours he was as close as he was going to get and headed out. After a couple of more hours of searching he found his target, an old warehouse. He stopped and turned around when he saw a woman with strawberry blond hair walk out with a huge smile on her face. Making sure she went away and that nobody else was around he went down a side alley to the door. Feeling the buzz before he got there he tried not to tense up. Testing the doorknob he found it was unlocked and pushed it open, ready for any surprise attack. Nobody was on the other side so he cautiously entered. "You saved me the trouble of hunting you down." Owen looked up to see Dijkhuizen look down at him from some sort of loft. "The stairs are over there," he pointed out. "Please make yourself at home."

"OK," Owen mutter, a bit confused. Not seeing any other way up there Owen took the stairs, going slower the closer he got to the loft. He found a door leading to an apartment looking area, apparently a living room. Ignoring the Victorian chair and table he glanced briefly at the bookshelves as he passed them, again confused as he saw the mix of the selection. Another open door made Owen reach into his jacket for his sword handle. There he found Dijkhuizen and a whole lot of swords, axes and other weapons of war. "Please do come in," he said. Owen complied still gripping his sword. "You know I'm not really surprised you hunted me down instead. I saw it in your eyes when I killed that punk. To think I was actually afraid you would be like your Uncle, running and hiding on holy ground."

Owen glanced around the room, seeing that damnable red blade of his. He also saw a familiar looking claymore leaning against the side of a chair. Michel saw him look at it, "Ah yes, his claymore. I wanted to add this to my collection for a long time." He tapped it with his knuckle as he passed heading for a coat rack in the corner holding his trench coat. "I actually went back for it after you got away. But it didn't feel right putting it up with the others. I didn't actually earn it. Maybe after I absorb your Quickening I'll change my mind." He started putting on these studded gloves he had laying nearby.

"You going somewhere?", Owen asked.

"Preparing for battle," he responded not looking at him. "I was a warrior before I became immortal. My old leader beat into me that a warrior needs to don his armor for any battle." Slowly he slipped on the trench coat, "My armor might have changed over the centuries but the concept is still the same." Looking back at the claymore he asked, "Did he ever tell you why he wanted me to kill you?" Owen said nothing, he didn't ask and really didn't care. "At first I thought it was because he wanted to be the only immortal McAllister, being the chieftain of his clan made him feel above the rest of them I suppose. Then he found out who you were exactly." He started chuckling, "I don't know what your old man did to fuck him over but I've never seen him that determined to get me to go after anybody." He walked around the room, getting closer to that red sword of his. "But you didn't come all the way out here to listen to me. And I don't want to talk." Grabbing the sword off the wall he made a move toward Owen.

Owen barley got his sword out in time to block it. Dijkhuizen had him on the defense almost immediately as he continued the block everything being thrown at him. Owen foot hit the wall behind him as he was forced to back up. Michel raised his sword above his head. Owen moved out of the way and he sliced through the wall. Seeing an opening Owen took a swing at him. Dijkhuizen dove out of the way and he got wall as well, his sword getting stuck in an interior stud, "Shit." Dijkhuizen came at him, Owen kicked him away before pulling his sword free off the wall. Stumbling a bit he quickly regained his footing before going after the older Immortal.

"I wish McAllister had this much fire," Michel grunted as he blocked the attack after attack. Seeing a hole in his assault he smashed his forearm into the younger McAllister's face making him back up a bit. Michel reached back and took a sword off the wall, his very first sword. Holding both before him the younger Immortal back up a bit but eventually held his ground. Grinning a bit he said, "You should be honored I wasn't planning on breaking this one out of retirement." Then he went after him again swinging wildly. Owen rolled under one swing and ran for the door. He wasn't going to last long in there while he had both of those in his hands. Stopping in the slightly bigger living room he turned around just in time to see Dijkhuizen run at him. Wishing he had Harris' speed right now he barely kept one step ahead of blocking those blades coming at him.

The younger Immortal felt something at the back of his foot and couldn't waste the time to figure out what it was. He fell to the side as Michel brought both swords down. He cut into the Victorian chair with ease. Michel looked at the chair than at him as he scrambled to his feet. Normally he would have been angry that his property was destroyed. Instead his grin grew bigger and charged at him again. Owen tried to keep from thinking that he might die here, it would have been a self fulfilling prophesy at this point. Kicking Dijkhuizen away again he tried to get enough room so he could breath. Michel came at him armed crossed and swinging both swords. He was able to get his sword up to block, finding himself on the opposite end of the cross swords that Victor faced when they fought. Michel pushed him backwards, going into a run. This time Owen did look back and saw they were heading for the picture window in the wall. Freeing a hand he reached out and grabbed him by the coat. He was able to get him to turn so they both crashed through the window.

Both of them hit the ground hard amid a shower of broken glass in the side alley. Owen slowly got to his feet and shook his jacked off, ignoring the burning sensation on his face as cuts healed and pushed out bits of glass still embedded in his skin and the feeling of his ribs knitting themselves together. Dijkhuizen eyes opened and he got to his feet. Letting go of his original sword as his broken arm healed he cracked his neck, popping vertebrae back into place. The tip of his red blade making a groove in the glass he walked to Owen who backed up his sword at the ready. Roaring he charged McAllister slamming the sword down on top of him repeatedly. Owen got his sword up to block each one as he continued to back up. Trying to catch Michel off guard he pressed an attack of his own. The older Immortal looked like he was enjoying his attempt. Realizing Owen was getting over eager he spun out of the way of slash aimed at his gut. Michel swung and a deep cut in his back made Owen recoil in pain, "Uh." Another slash in his back made his hand open up and drop the sword. A third dropped him to his knees.

"There's nobody to make me stop now," Michel grinned as he took aim at his head. Instinct made Owen roll foreword, barely avoiding the blade. Roaring again Michel tried to cut him in Half. Owen rolled out of the way of that one and got to a knee. Seeing his long sword Owen dove for it. His hand reached the handle but Dijkhuizen's foot was already on the blade. He looked up to see a flash of red coming at him. He quickly backed away, crawling backwards as Dijkhuizen continued to stalk him. "Come on McAllister! Show me what you fucking got!" he taunted him while grinning like a man possessed. Owen got to his feet and tackled him again, or at least he tried to. Michel flung him to the side and again stopped him when he made a move for the long sword. Michel kicked him down and stomped a foot in his chest.

Instead of finishing him off he picked up Owen' sword and threw it further down the alley. Owen watched it fly out of his reach, dear God not like this. "End of the fucking road McAllister." Out of desperation he kicked Dijkhuizen in the balls as he came closer. Kicking his foot out again he caught him under the chin making him stagger back. Taking the moment he had he saw Dijkhuizen's other sword lying on the ground. He ran for it since this was his only chance. Grabbing it on the run he stumbled as he turned around to face Dijkhuizen. The red blade poised above his head and anger in his eyes Owen rolled under the strike and backed up. He tried to ignore how foreign this sword felt in his hands. Pointing the blade behind him and slightly toward the ground he waited for the next attack. It didn't come as Michel stood there, both hands on the handle he had his sword up and pointed toward the sky

While they stood there it started to rain, a slow drizzle at first that quickly increased into a steady down pour. Michel glanced up at the incoming drops before looking back at the younger McAllister. "It's going to be a bad day for somebody," he grunted. Owen tried to get his emotions under control, knowing he was going to lose if he didn't. Michel silently fumed that he dared touch his sword, but kept the rage in check until it was time to unleash it. They stood there and words from their former mentors came to them.

"Fear is your weapon," his old leader told him.

"You have to study your opponent while you fight him," Finlay informed him

"Your enemy will tell you his weakness," Kronos said.

"Do not rely on just your sight in battle," Naoto taught him

Michel studied Owen, particularly his hand. His fingers kept flexing around the handle while he tried to find a grip on that sword. He started grinning again. Owen heard the glass crunch under his feet. He got ready, having an idea where the attack was coming from. Michel came at him high, Owen already had the sword in place to block. Sparks started to fly off their blades as they clashed. Both ignored the rain pouring into their eyes. Michel was almost able to knock the sword from his hands but the younger Immortal was keeping a death grip on the handle. Owen tried to get a bead on Dijkhuizen but his style was so wild there was no pattern he could predict he could only react. Both of them kicked at the other at the same time. Both stumbled back. Owen and Michel looked at each other before running toward each other. Both of them swung. Owen momentum forced him to the ground blood flying.

Michel stood there with his sword out mid swing. For a brief second he heard Malcolm say, "What would you do if you knew you were about to die today?" A moment later a red line formed around his neck. His head slowly fell backwards as his body dropped to the ground. As Owen stood up holding the still bleeding gash in his chest and coughed up blood as the Quickening poured out of the headless body. It snaked around in the air, hovering around the younger Immortal. Almost like it was hunting him, stalking him, waiting to pounce on top of him.

A bolt came off of it and knocked him foreword. Another came at him from the front and almost floored him. The Quickening seem to split in two, freezing him in place as it entered him. The energy continued to pour out of the body and swirled around him, seemingly tearing him up on the inside. "AAAAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!" Owen screamed as the pain took him past his limits. The windows around and above him shattered from the energy and rained down upon him. Cuts from the deadly shower healed almost instantly as the Quickening continued to assault him. Bolts of lightning like energy shot off of him creating sparks on the walls. Manhole covers flew into the air as sewer gas exploded and clanged on the ground. When he thought he couldn't contain all of this anymore it stopped. Owen dropped to his knees totally spent and exhausted.

Inside of him a secondary battle was taking place. Dijkhuizen was fighting to remain on top. For the first time ever Owen thought he would actually lose this one. Then something inside him seemed to grab Dijkhuizen's Quickening and dragged it down, he fought it all the way. In that brief second Owen blinked as his eyes started to focus around him. He saw Dijkhuizen's red blade and picked it up. Studying it he grew disgusted at the sight of it and threw it down. Grabbing his jacket he searched for his long sword. But why couldn't he shake this feeling somebody he knew was nearby?

"Holy shit," said a young man who's long brown hair was tied back in a pony tail. Through a set of binocular he watched McAllister from a nearby rooftop. He didn't notice Bekah beside him look away, trying not to look upset. "I actually thought he was going to rise up in the air there for a moment."

"What… what are you talking about Jim?", she forced out. She never knew McAllister was there if she didn't see Radcliffe hanging around. When he told her what was going in she quickly pointed out a spot they could watch. She was still in disbelief.

"Sorry," he said looking at her. "Back in the eighties Kurgan's Watcher, I think his name was Horton, described the Quickening Macleod absorbed. He raised up in the air it was so powerful. There actually 8mm footage of it. Horton was convinced the Gathering was ending and recorded it for prosperity. It was quite a sight."

"MacLeod?", she asked still in disbelief. "Duncan MacLeod?"

"The older one, Conner. It was quite a sight to see on film. Damn that would have been something to see live." Radcliffe went back to looking at the alley, recording what he saw in his digital recorder. Bekah knew she should do the same. In fact she had the recorder in her hand. But she couldn't say anything, she couldn't believe that he lost. That fucking bastard killed him.

~a few days later~

Rob tried not to get nervous as he watched Harris come toward him with two beers in his hand. It was almost becoming a common thing lately. More than likely they like to hit the same bars. Sitting them down Harris said, "Hello again my friend." Rob tried not to stare at the scar on his neck, although it might be interesting to hear how he would explain that one. "I'm afraid this might be our last meeting. For I am leaving soon as the wind is calling my name."

Rob tried not to flinch as he took a drink, well the rest was nice while it lasted. "Well if you got to go you got to go. Do you have any idea where you're going?" Hey it was worth a shot.

"I never know until I get there." After a couple of more drinks Rob noticed Harris wasn't exactly drinking any of his beer. Why were things getting fuzzy and why was he so dizzy suddenly? Harris just smiled at him, "I am truly sorry friend but I hate being watched."

Realizing he was just drugged Rob got out, "You son of a…" before the darkness took him. Harris caught his head and gently laid it down on the table.

"Can't have you banging your head now can we? And I do hope you had the decency to look away while I had some fun with the old in and out with the ladies I've come across. That would just be rude." Getting a waitress's attention he slipped her a hundred dollar bill, "Please make sure nobody disturbs my friend here. He should be up in the next couple of hours."

Outside the bar he walked around until he found Ser. "Now will you tell me why I had to drug that woman?"

"All in due time my dear," he said guiding her down the street. "It is a rather remarkable story if I do say so myself. But not one for the open. I trust you are all packed and ready to go?" The buzz stopped them, they both looked around until they saw Susan coming toward them. "Sister, come to see us off? How nice of you."

"Are you sure about this Ser?", she asked. "I understand about wanting to leave but with Scott?"

"He was right, this place does seem different to me now," she explained. "And I'm very aware that a pre Quickening Immortal sticks out like a sore thumb and I'm not sure how many decent guys who won't take advantage of my inexperience I'm going to come across. Scott volunteered to accompany me for a while, at least until I get the hang of it. I would have asked you but you're needed here."

"I would have gone with you Ser," Susan told her. "You are my student after all."

"But you got people who need you here," she repeated. "You taught me a lot but even you said I have to try and learn from somebody else eventually."

"Yes I did," she agreed sadly. She looked at Scott for a moment, "Ser can we have a moment alone?" She said they could and walked off a bit. "Scott I'm only going to tell you this once."

"I know exactly what you're going to say," he said. "I will be the perfect gentleman you always tried to get me to be. But if she gets her own ideas than I won't stop her. It would just be rude after all."

"I'm sure you will," she said. Than Susan eyes changed slightly, into something dangerous, something she only showed to those she fought in battle, "But if I ever get a call saying you got bored with her and left her stranded in the middle of nowhere. You better pray somebody takes your head before I find you."

Harris gulped, "Of course Sister." Quickly heading over to Serenity he hurried her down the street. "Come Serenity, there's a world to see and people to meet. Maybe a game or two to play down the road." Ser went off on him about those games but Scott continued to walk her down the street

Susan watched them a bit before turning away. Smiling to herself she said, "I still got it."

~Two months later~

Owen sat in the airport waiting for his flight to be called. He should have been out here a month ago, but every time there seemed to be more and more paper work to get some kind of permission to travel with a sword. He had no problem with the modern world, but times like this he really missed the simpler days of travel. He was out of his lease, most of his possessions were in storage and outside of this carryon bag most of his luggage should be loading right about now. All he had to do was wait. "Did you think you could leave without saying goodbye?" He looked up and saw the Father standing in front of him.

"Sorry Father," he said as he sat next to him. "I haven't really been myself lately."

"We've noticed," he said. "You know you can talk to me about anything Owen. I like to think you value our friendship as much as I do."

"I know Father, and I do. More than you realize. But I'm trying to find myself again, I need to do that alone." Owen was quiet while the other man took that in. "I know it sounds strange but it's something I have to do."

"I understand better than you think," Father Andrews said with a smile. "I've done a little soul searching of my own from time to time. So do you have an idea where you're going to start looking?"

"I figured I start with a promise I've been meaning to keep for the last three hundred years." When the other man looked confused he answered, "I'm going home."

"Sounds like a good start," he smiled. "I hope it a sort search."

"It rarely is."

Over the PA system a woman announced, "Flight 227 to Glasgow, Scotland is now boarding at gate twenty seven."

"That's my flight," Owen said as he grabbed his bag and got up.

"You told me you were born in Ireland," The father said getting up as well.

"I got to make a stop first. I'll explain later." Owen pulled the Father into a hug, "I'll be in touch Father. Take care of yourself."

"And you as well. What's that saying you Immortals say? Watch your back or neck I think."

Smiling he said, "Something like that." Owen headed for his flight. Three hundred plus years and he still hated saying goodbye to people. Looking for his terminal somebody ran into him, "Careful there." He realized after a moment it was a woman.

"I'm sorry," she said. Owen looked at her, a wisp of strawberry blond hair was just hanging underneath her hat. She started smiling at him, "Oh my God how are you doing? It's been forever."

"I'm sorry do I know you?" Owen searched his memory, he couldn't place this woman to save his life.

Losing the smile, in fact she started to look kind of sad, she said, "I'm sorry. I must have you confused with somebody else."

"It happens to me all the time." Owen heard the flight announcement again and excused himself. Why couldn't he shake this feeling he'd seen her before?

Behind him the woman sad face changed to one of determination and followed him. They were in a mostly deserted part of the airport. She could shot him and cut off his head before anybody could stop her. Reaching into her coat she pulled a revolver out of her waistband, hurrying up to get closer. The less time the few people that were there had to react the better. Somebody got in her way. She recognized him almost immediately, grunting, "Get out of my way Rob."

"I can't let you do it Bekah," he said. She looked over his shoulder. McAllister was getting further and further away. She went to pull her gun but Rob stopped her.

"He has to die," she said anger flashing tin her eyes. "He killed Michel, my Michel and he has to die. Why don't you understand that?"

"It's what they do Bekah, until there only one of them left." He looked behind her and nodded. She looked around and saw more Watchers standing around them. "I'm sorry Bekah, but I told them what you told me."

"You fucking bastard," she went to shot him but they quickly got it away from her. Rob looked sad as she cursed at him. "I am never going to forgive you for this!" They tried to detain her but she fought back. Somebody had to jam a needle in her neck and inject her with something to get her to calm down. They took her out of there without any more fuss. Rob knew he did the right thing, it still didn't stop him from feeling like shit though.

An older man came up to him saying, "Thanks for letting us know Rob. I still don't know what happened but at least it explains why she was stalking McAllister for the past couple of months. Hopefully we can help her, but I don't think she's going to be watching anybody ever again."

"Just trying to help out a friend," He said. "So when am I getting reassigned? After I lost Harris I was told I was taken off of him."

"We thought you needed a rest," he said. A little reluctantly he added, "And I'm afraid to say you're under investigation too." Rob didn't say anything, although he had a feeling why. And it wasn't because of Harris. He went on, "After they found out what Trevor was up to they started looking at his associates. Peter was listed as one of them, and he brought you in. Both of them requested that you be pushed forward into field duty so that didn't look good. It's just a precaution, I'm sure nothing will come of it."

"Maybe I should just turn myself in because it true."

The other man looked at him, realizing he wasn't joking, "Rob I have to report this. Do you have any idea what they're going to do to you?"

"I got an idea."

"Fuck. Maybe they'll be a little lenient because you turned yourself in willingly. But why would you do that?"

"Because I was a newer member of the group, and I realize I don't really believe in what he was saying, not anymore." The older man nodded and guided Rob to the others.

As he walked around a small town on the coast of Scotland in the early morning Owen was lost in memories. When he was younger his Father would paint such a vivid picture in his mind at how his village used to look like Owen would have sworn he was there. Roughly a year before Finlay made him leave he visited his Father's village once and it was exactly how he described it. A few of the older folks thought he was him at first. That was the first time he had ever used a fake name to introduce himself. Now three centuries later the village had grown a bit but he still pictured his Father's village in his mind. Greeting anybody he passed as he made his way to the cemetery, he was grateful it was still were it was suppose to be.

Entering he immediately headed to the back where the older tombstones were. Studying the dates he found were roughly his Father would have been if they never listened to his Uncle. Looking around to make sure he was alone he opened his coat and reached into the other side, pulling out a claymore. He looked at it for a moment or two before saying, "It's more than you deserve." Without a second thought he plunged it into the ground and left.

He didn't go far before he felt the buzz. His heart caught in his throat as he saw who was coming toward him. Natalya asked, "So, is that like a guy thing or something?"

"It's what Dad would have wanted," he answered softly. There was an uncomfortable silence before he was saying, "How did you…?"

"Father Andrews told Susan where you were going," she answered. "I put two and two together."

Again there was an awkward silence. "Is this were you tell me we need to talk?"

"I hope not," she said. "Damn it Owen. Do you have any idea how much that hurt when you said it? It hurt worse because I knew why you were saying it." He couldn't look at her. "I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought you trusted me enough to help you through it."

"I don't think you know how much you actually mean to me," he told her. "But it's hard to admit it when I know there's a chance that I might have to kill you."

"You don't think I know that?", she snapped. "I love you Owen McAllister, but I'm wondering why I'm even wasting my time with you." He deserved that one, no doubt about it. "Hell, I arrived here yesterday trying to see if I can understand what's going on in that head of yours."

"My last name might be McAllister," he said his old brogue slipping through, "but I'm a son of Scotland and Ireland. If you want to understand me lass you're going to have to see both."

He looked over at her, she was still mad at him he could tell that much, but there was a small smile on her lips. Coming closer she said, "Well then, if you want to understand me you're going to have to see France and Russia as I'm a child of both as well."

Smiling a bit he said, "I do love you Natalya. Hopefully you'll eventually forgive me for being an idiot, but I'll understand if you don't."

"I love you too much not to," she told him. "Owen I want to be with you, not like how we were before, in and out of each other's lives. But after we blew up when we tried living together I don't know how it'll work."

"We'll think of something."

"Then let's promise not to fight each other," she told him. "I mean we'll still going to argue, nothing going to stop that, but we won't fight each other."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is that simple," she informed him. "We'll worry about it if we're the last two. But if that's one of the biggest blocks in our way let's get rid of it. Promise me we won't fight."

"I promise I won't fight you if you don't fight me." His hand reached out for hers. Their fingers lightly grazed each other before starting to intertwine. They stopped when they felt another Immortal. "We're a little busy if you don't mind," he told the intruder.

"Not my problem," he said pulling out a sword. "And the name is Roger Mulligan."

"You want me to take this one?", Natalya asked, both of them realizing he wasn't going to leave until he fought one of them.

"No I got it." They walked off of holy ground while Natalya watched. Drawing his long sword he said, "Owen McAllister." Mulligan bowed a bit. Both of their swords at the ready they clashed. Because after all in the end there can be only one.


End file.
